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3d-wifey · 11 months ago

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And They'd Find Us in A Week - Chapter 12

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 8.4k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! Tag list: - @melancholicmelanin, @yvy1s, @glomp-me, @honethatty12, @swftlore, @hashcakes, @antoheartit, @finnickodaddy, @lilifl0wer, @antoheartit, @kermitcrimess, @persophonekarter, @aawdrea, @obaewankenobis, @xyxlyn, @meandurdaughtergotaspecialthing, @innercreationflower, @kisskittenn Chapter Summary: There's a certain kind of pain in reading or watching something from the perspective of a character who doesn't know about the tragedy ahead of them. It's like watching a scary movie and going, "No, don't go to sleep! He's behind the door!" Like in The Song of Achilles, we all know how the original story ends. We know how the actual prophecy plays out. We know that the moment Patroclus's heart stops, Hector and Achilles fates are set in stone. You wince whenever Achilles says he has no reason to kill Hector because "What has Hector done to me?" You want to tell him that Hector will do the unforgivable to him. You want to tell Patroclus not to go on the field. Tell Achilles to get his damned head out of his ass as he disguises Patroclus as himself because he is at risk of losing something far more important than his pride. You hold your breath as Patroclus is speared in the back and as Achilles realizes the consequences of his actions. You knew it was coming, and yet, you still read the story because a part of you hoped. You hoped for the hopeless. All this to say that knowing and still having hope regardless is crueler than complete ignorance. A/N: I imagined your stylist as Anne Hathaway in Alice in Wonderland.

Past (xiii) - You [22 & 23] - THE CAPITOL

If you were from any other district, maybe it would have surprised you how attached Rue is to you. But the sense of community in Eleven breeds this need for kinship. You’re social creatures; you’re not meant to be on your own. Certainly not in a place like the Capitol. It’s how you end up hugging your knees to your chest, an unnamed ocean projected on your wall as you try to get lost in the tides the night before the tributes will be marched into the arena.

No one talks about this part, or maybe they just don’t want to think about it. The part where being forced back into the room you slept in during your own Games eats at you—that anxiety that courses through your veins and leaves your body thrumming. Because no matter what you tell yourself, your body isn’t entirely convinced that you won’t be the one entering the arena tomorrow. You close your eyes and suddenly you’re fifteen again, gripping the sheets so hard you could tear holes in them as you fight the vomit threatening to ride the wave of acid reflux.

Sleeping beside Finnick helped. He reminded you that you weren’t fifteen and alone and wishing you’d die in your sleep so you wouldn’t be slaughtered live. And now? Well, at least there’ll always be the ocean.

There’s a knock on your door, so tentative that you would have missed it if you weren’t already so keyed up.

You pause the projection of the ocean, assuming the sound woke someone up. You get up and go to open it, only to see Rue. Suddenly you’re shamefaced and embarrassed, like you’ve been caught doing something pathetic, even though it’s doubtful she even knows what the sound was, let alone the significance of you listening to it.

“I’m sorry, honey. Was I being too loud?”

“No.” She shakes her head, shifting from foot to foot. “Um, I couldn’t sleep. And I just—I saw that your light was on and thought maybe you couldn’t sleep either?”

That may be true, but you don’t think it’s the only reason. Rue is the oldest of six and they all live in Shacktown. With all those people in one house, you’re sure Rue’s never slept alone a day in her life. It makes you wonder how she managed these past few days.

You’re an only child; your dad was killed before your parents could have any more, so you can’t say for certain that you understand what she feels. Yet, you reminisce on the fact that you’ve never really gone through a year of mentoring without Finnick being within arm’s reach.

She stares up at you with those big, pleading puppy-dog eyes, and you twist your mouth to the side.

“C’mon.” You move so you aren’t blocking the entrance anymore and you nod your head towards your room. “How ‘bout you sleep in here with me tonight? You don’t have to, of course, but we might as well stay up together.”

You know you’ve made the right choice when she grins big, rushes in, and takes a running start to jump on your bed. You shake your head fondly as she scurries to get under the blanket, lying down with them pulled under her arms and getting comfortable like she belongs there. The door slides shut behind you and you twist the dimmer until the only light comes from the projector. You settle into your bed beside Rue andyou snort at how she keeps smiling at you.

“So… What were you watching?”

“Uh.” You pick the remote up to unmute the device and the sound of crashing ocean waves fills any remaining silence. “The ocean.”

She looks over, seemingly transfixed by the drag and pull of the water. The nearest ocean to Eleven is the one that rests just outside of the towering fence and only serves as a deterrent for escaping. This is her first time seeing one outside of a textbook. “Why?”

“Well, I,” you let out a weighted breath, "I thought it would make me feel better. Help me sleep.”

“Oh.” Says Rue and then she looks at you. “Why?”

You let out a surprised laugh. “Um. I guess the ocean reminds me of my friend and—I don’t know. It’s just easier to sleep with him around."

“Is he your crush?” Crush? Such an innocent question feels surprisingly weighted considering your current relationship with Finnick. Or lack thereof. Is it a crush now that it’s unrequited?

“I love him.” You tell the wall and it’s the sad truth. You still do. You wouldn’t be so hung up if you didn’t.

"Whoa. You like like him.” Like like. It’s been years since you heard that. It brings to mind how young she is. It’s not as if you needed another reminder. “It’s okay, I won’t tell. I like someone too.”

“Oh? And what’s his name?” You smile. You both flip over to face each other. You picture little you and little Sage, shyly holding hands during downtime, and find yourself hoping this boy liked Rue back.

“You can’t tell anyone.” She narrows her eyes and makes you swear, which you do with a pinky promise. “Coriander.” Her voice goes all quiet and timid as she hides her face and you wonder if you’ve ever seen anything cuter.

“Ah, I think I might know him.” She looks at you with wide eyes as you tease her, peering out from between her fingers.

“Nuh-uh, no way.” She denies it as you tap a finger on your chin and pretend to think about it.

“No, no. I think I do. He’s got pink hair, no teeth, and walks with a waddle, right?”

“No! ” She giggles and you can’t help but giggle along with her. You take a moment.

“Finnick. The boy I like.” You provide when she looks confused. “His name is Finnick.”

“Oh, oh! Is he that boy from Four? The victor?” It’s hardly shocking that she recognizes him. He’s one of ‘the greats’. You nod and she gasps like that’s the juiciest piece of gossip she’s ever heard.

“He’s pretty.” She whispers.

“He is.” You laugh.

“Is he nice?”

“The nicest,” you say without thought or contempt. Finnick’s indeed been nothing but kind to you since you’ve met him, current behavior not included. You find that even when you’re mad at him, you can’t disparage him. And you don’t want to lie to Rue. “He made me this." You lift your wrist and show her your bracelet. You’ve been wearing it around your ankle while you’re out in public, but when you’re on your own, it goes back to its rightful place.

“Cori made something for me too.”

She pulls her necklace up for you to see. It’s woven grass attached to a wooden charm shaped like a flower—you squint—or maybe a star? Definitely the handiwork of a child. Adorable. It reminds you of Cane.

“Your token?”

“Yep. He gave it to me when everyone came to see me off after I was reaped. He ran all the way home and back to give it to me. He almost didn’t get back in time, but I waited for him. I knew he’d come, and that’s why it’s good luck.”

“Makes sense.” You nod and she nods with you, like she’s happy that you get her logic. “He must like you a lot to go through all that.”

“Yeah. He’s sweet.” She smiles, fidgeting with the charm.

“I bet he is.” You push some of her curls out of her face. Just two doomed girls talking about their equally doomed crushes.

It’s silent for a moment; ocean noises make your eyes feel heavier with the pull of each tide. You watch as the shadows cast from the projector paint the ceiling in a series of swirling blues. You think you can see Finnick’s favorite color hidden amongst the other shades.

“Were you scared? When you went into the arena?” Rue asks and you still can’t find it in yourself to lie to her.

“Terrified.”

“Really? You’re so brave though?” She sounds so genuinely confused that you have to hold back your laughter. You don’t want her to think you're making fun of her. You appreciate the vote of confidence. It’s more than you have in yourself.

“I think…being brave means doing something even if you are terrified.” You look away from the ceiling to make eye contact. “It’s okay to be scared, Rue. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” She mumbles like she doesn’t actually believe it.

“I think you’re incredibly brave.” You know she regularly went foraging for food for her siblings, and she took on more hours than what was required of her. Who knows how many times she’s entered her name for Tesserae?

And she’s still so young.

“Really?”

“Oh, definitely.” You laugh at her skepticism. You’ve laughed more with Rue in the short time you’ve had with her than in the last two years combined. Sadly, there hasn’t been much of a reason for you to. Realizing that this is the last night you two will laugh together is devastating. “I was fifteen and I felt like I was on the edge of breaking down the entire time. How are you so calm?” She’s only twelve years old—not even a teenager. If you were in her shoes, you’d have dehydrated yourself from how much you were crying.

“I am scared, but…" She drags out the ‘uh’, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t feel real.”

“Hmm. I get that.” You don’t tell her that it won’t start feeling real until she either wins or dies. It’ll only make her feel worse. She closes her eyes and you two are quiet for a time—so long that you think she’s fallen asleep.

Her voice is small when she asks, “Can I hold your hand?”

“Of course.” You hold your right one out for her to take, and her little fingers lace with yours. Her palms are callused too. Not as much as yours. No, she’ll never have enough time to catch up to yours.

Rue moves closer to you and you wrap your left arm around her. You feel her say your name more than you hear it and you hum in response. “Thank you.”

You pull her closer to your chest, your linked hands resting between you. “Of course, sweetheart.” You say this into the crown of her head, wishing that you could have done more for her and Thresh—wishing you weren’t so helpless.

But you can do this. You can give her this last comfort, this last embrace from home. You hold her tight as you both fall asleep and you only let her go when they come to take her away in the morning.

You do not cry.

You miss him, you decide one day. You thought you hated him after you got through your self-pity, but the words "hate" and "Finnick" are too oxymoronic to ever stay together for long. You were so angry at yourself, angry at the world, but you sat with that anger long enough to know what it truly was. Grief. You miss him the way you'd miss a limb. You're so used to having it that you only remember it's gone when you notice the space it used to occupy and feel the phantom aches of what it used to be—what you used to have and took for granted.

Chaff has described in detail the pain of losing his hand. But, he said, nothing hurts worse than remembering it’s not there.

You've never taken Morphling and you don't know anyone personally who's gotten hooked on it, but you imagine this is what withdrawal feels like. You haven't seen him since before he sent that letter, and it feels like he's actively avoiding you. You said years ago, after Annie's Games, that you could handle just being his friend if he decided he didn’t want you anymore. But he never gave you the chance.

That’s alright. It’s perfectly fine. You know when you’re not wanted around, you can take a hint.

Maybe it's for the best. There’s no telling what you would do if you ran into him again. Something pathetic, probably, like begging him to take you back. There's a specific moment when you really feel your loss. A few days into the 74th Hunger Games. Chaff is finalizing the transaction with the money Eleven gathered to send bread for Rue and Thresh, so you’re on your own.

“Your girl is something else.” You tell Haymitch from where you stand beside him, arms crossed, as you split your attention between him and the Games.

He cocks his head slightly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, then returns to watching Katniss and Rue rehearse their strategy. “I can say the same to you.” You hadn’t expected Rue to team up with anyone, but you can’t say you are surprised that it’s Katniss. The girl did volunteer for her little sister, after all. Primrose, was it? But you’re concerned that your little speech about being brave by doing things that terrify you may have swayed her to come out of hiding and help Katniss.

You can’t take full credit, though. Rue—well, she’s far too kind for her own good.

You look him over, a glass of something alcoholic in one hand while the other remains buried in his pocket. Honestly, you’ve never seen him this invested in the Games before, but you could hazard a guess why. You weren’t just blowing smoke up his ass about Katniss. She’s honestly got a pretty good shot of winning, if not making it to the top five. She’s already a fan favorite, along with Rue, Peeta, Glimmer, and Cato. She’s exceeded your expectations, along with Haymitch’s. No wonder he’s been networking his ass off. If she’s actually got a chance at surviving this, he owes it to her to try.

That’s when it happens.

Rue’s screams echo in your ears as Katniss races through the forest. Something has gone wrong—she's been captured or the Careers are using her as bait, or—you wipe your sweaty hands on your dress and then recross them, wanting more than anything to bite at the skin around your nails. You hold your breath, hoping beyond hope that she’s saved from whatever fate has befallen her.

She’s by herself in the clearing. Caught in a net, but not hurt. Katniss manages to get Rue out and your muscles begin to untense, but the relief is incredibly short-lived.

Marvel, that cocky little boy from two, throws his spear with deadly precision, lance soaring past Katniss to pierce Rue in the abdomen.

Your hands are numb as they cover your mouth, but then you remember where you are and drop them just as quickly. She pulls the spear from her chest and you want to yell at her not to, that taking it out will only make her bleed quicker. Like it even matters at all when she’ll bleed out regardless. You think you need to sit down.

Katniss catches her before she falls. You’re lightheaded.

Katniss sings to her after she whispers something that the mics can’t pick up and it feels like your heart is being wrung dry. You think of Rue’s mother. You think of her six siblings, who all look up to her. You think of Coriander. You think of how small she felt in your arms and how tightly she held your hand. You think of a lot of things in the time it takes for her heart to stop beating.

The cannon fires and all eyes go to you. Ranging from curious to pitying. Some are even tearful. She was a fan favorite, after all. Mentors and Capitols alike split their attention between you and the screens to catch your reaction, but your face is deceptively blank. You stare ahead silently, your eyes unseeing as they remain on the screen.

You will not give them the pleasure of seeing you break down. Katniss will leave and Rue’s body will be airlifted out and that will be the end of it.

This is nothing new for you. You’ve gone through this twelve other times. Why would she be any different? She isn't. You tell that to your shaky hands and they only tremble further. You tell your heavy lungs and they only get heavier. You try telling your chilly skin, but all it does is make you feel colder. Why is she different?

You want to close your eyes as Katniss grieves. To be able to save one little girl but not another, it must weigh heavy.

“I’m so sorry." Someone comes to stand beside you, some Capitol elite. “One less chance for your district to win.” You look at him from the corner of your eye and Haymitch scoffs on your other side. For one stupid moment, you thought he was offering his condolences.

“Right. Well. There’s still Thresh.” He nods along to your words, thoughtfully, like you’re talking about the likelihood of a horse winning a race.

“Yes, he’s the big one, right? I have money riding on him or Cato winning.” Of course, he remembers his name and not Thresh’s. You close your eyes before they can roll out of your head. “I’d like to send him something to eat as a sponsor. I worry—what is she doing?” You open your eyes to see what tribute has captured his attention, only to see Katniss again. But she’s still with Rue, kneeling next to her body with an armful of flowers—

“She’s giving her a funeral.” You bite your bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Rue rests on a bed of flowers—white daisies and lavender. She tucks a bouquet of daisies in her little hands and you wonder if Katniss knows the significance that being surrounded by flowers has for your people. Or maybe that’s something your two districts have in common. All that’s missing is fruit and it would be a proper Eleven funeral.

A funeral for a little girl. Your heart grows heavy with that realization and your mouth curls into a scowl.

You shouldn’t think about how she clung to you before she was sent into the arena. You shouldn’t think of Coriander’s childish hope dying with her. You shouldn’t think about her family watching this. You shouldn’t think of how her mother woke up this morning with six children and will go to sleep with only five. You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t—

“Oh, how sweet.” The man coos.

“Yes.” Katniss faces the camera, kisses her three middle fingers, and salutes the cameras—salutes District Eleven. You don’t think of Coriander sprinting to the train clutching a grass-woven necklace with a good-luck charm that wasn’t very lucky. “Very sweet."

On instinct, you reach to the left for Finnick, but there's no hand to hold other than your own.

You need Finnick, and he isn’t here and for the first time since you've become a mentor, you have to brave the games by yourself and shoulder your grief alone.

“Kid…” A flinch rolls through you at the unexpected voice, and you look to your left at Haymitch’s face as he goes through a range of emotions before settling on sympathy. No. Empathy. For a moment, you forgot he was beside you. But he hasn’t forgotten you.

He does something that surprises you again. He places a big hand on the nape of your neck, warm and callused, and squeezes. You exhale sharply, your face twisting minutely, and it’s the closest thing to crying that you’ll allow yourself to do. He pulls you into his side, and it’s a battle not to burrow into him—a battle you lose. Your image will allow you to do this much. Allow you to be comforted while many of the other Capitols in the room do the same thing because it’s all very sad. You wrap your arms around his waist from where you’re held tight against his side and his hand goes down to rub your back soothingly.

No words are said between you two, and that’s enough. It has to be. Past (xiii) - Finnick

[ 22 & 23] - DISTRICT FOUR Finnick has never felt worse.

The sky is clear, the stars are bright, and Finnick has never felt worse.

It’s a particularly quiet night on the beach. There’s no one walking along the shore, no bonfires, no night swimming. There’s only Finnick.

He sits with his legs crossed under him; the coarse sand is warm against the exposed skin of his legs and feet. He’s always been able to come down to the beach to think and unload any weight on his shoulders. With how heavy his heart feels, he’s never needed that release more. A cool breeze carries the smell of the ocean, but it’s not as comforting as it should be.

He reaches into the ornate box sitting between his thighs and just rests his hand there, letting his fingers ghost over the pages upon pages of parchment paper. He’s kept a tight lid on this box, hoarding your letters and your scent inside like a corvid. Even now, outside on the shore, your smell wafts around him—concentrated and stiff. He blinks past the tears in his eyes.

He doesn’t look inside; he doesn’t think he can handle it. To see the length of your relationship measured by words on paper, to know he’ll never be adding to this box again—it’s too much.

He pulls out a letter at random.

His eyes have already readjusted to the darkness as he uses the moonlight to read. He traces the looping lines of your handwriting.

This is the letter you sent along with that pretty picture of yourself in case he forgot what you look like. A beautiful sentiment, but largely unnecessary. Finnick knows your reflection as well as he knows his own, if not better. Even now, with all this space, time, and hurt between the two of you, he could draw your portrait blindfolded. Not that anything could ever live up to the real thing. Nothing can compare to you.

He sighs, twisting his bracelet around his wrist absently. He feels the cool grooves of the fish charm between his thumb and pointer finger as he looks at the stars. There are more stars than there are grains of sand. Each tiny, flickering dot is a blazing inferno, the likes of which he can hardly comprehend. They don’t shine nearly as brightly as you do in his memory.

He just…he just wishes he could have told you that.

Unconsciously, his eyes fall on Cassiopeia. Punished for boasting about the beauty of her daughter. It’s not fair. Her only crime was loving her child, and for that, she was forced to give her up for the safety of her kingdom.

Sacrificing someone you love for the greater good. He can’t tell if he wants to scoff, scream, or cry. Maybe all three.

Are you looking at the same sky as him? Even now, are the two of you still connected? Is it cruel to hope for that? It has to be, but Finnick has found that he's grown rotten in his misery. Rotten and incredibly selfish.

Over the past year, you’ve sent him letter after letter and he read each one with ravenous eyes—desperate for you in any way he could have you. You were angry, you were hurt, you were confused. You alternated between begging him and demanding him to reply. So he did. Of course, he did. He could never deny you anything.

He just never sent any of them.

He kept them stashed in a drawer, locked away so he didn’t have to look at them—wouldn’t have to look at his bleeding heart. It wasn’t healthy; he knows that, but still. He just wanted to pretend, just for a little while, that everything was back to normal. That he hadn’t ripped out his soul by tearing yours apart.

Those letters had been a constant staple in his life for nearly seven years, and—he was going to wean himself off of it, off of you, really, he was.

But he never got the chance to before they stopped coming a few months ago. They just stopped.

He should be happy about that. He should be pleased that you're moving on. He should be a lot of things that he's not, but, as it turns out, he’s getting pretty fucking sick of performing for an empty audience. You've given up on him, and you have every right to, but—

God, it hurts.

It’s for the best. It’s what he wanted—no, it’s what he needed to happen for both of you. And it’s certainly better than the alternative Snow offered.

Knowing all that doesn’t make it hurt any less; it doesn’t make the pain any easier to bear.

He takes out another letter, and it’s…it’s the first one? The first letter you left him after you spent the night in his room. He remembers waking up on the floor, tired and raw from that conversation on the balcony. He was fully prepared to act like it never happened. He was a little disappointed to wake up alone, but he was sure that it only proved that you wanted to forget about it too. Imagine his surprise when he rolled over—not to the empty space he was expecting, but to a note on your pillow.

I really appreciate…

Thank you for…

Just thank you.

He was left floored. He was seventeen years old and he couldn’t remember the last time anyone thanked him for anything.

Finnick brings the note to his nose and your perfume floods his senses, drowning him in memories. Memories of long train rides home from the Capitol, his only company being the smell of you on his clothes.

And try as he might, he can’t forget. He can still feel the blood caked under his fingernails and flaking at his wrist. Can still feel the warmth of your beating heart in his hand after he ripped it out. That’s his punishment. Remembering it all, good and bad.

He’s broken from his musing by the crunching of sand approaching him from behind.

“You’ve been out here for hours. Aren’t you cold?” Annie's soft-spoken voice is almost lost in the wind. No. He isn’t. He’s the exact opposite, actually. He’s scorching from the inside out. He’s burning bright and hot and one day he’ll implode under the weight of it all like a supernova. The only respite he can imagine is the cool relief of your touch. He’s scared he’ll forget what that feels like.

She sighs when he doesn’t answer. “We know you’re hurting, Finnick, and we’re worried. You can talk to us. You don’t have to just…talk to your letters. We’re here for you.”

He doesn’t look up; he doesn’t have the strength to, but he nods anyway. Of course, they can tell he’s hurting. A blind man could spot his suffering from a mile away. He hadn’t bothered to hide it outside of the Capitol.

“...Try not to stay out here too long, okay?

Annie squeezes his shoulder before walking back up the beach, leaving him alone, and he's thankful. She shouldn't have to see him like this. She shouldn't have to see him break down.

I'm allowed to, he thinks, I'm in mourning.

But how can he mourn something he killed?

He reaches into the box one more time, pulling out a stray scrap of paper and a pen. His hands shake along with his shoulders, his handwriting so bad that only he and you would be able to understand it. He writes:

Dear Heart,

I don’t know who Finnick Odair is without his love for you.

Every day, I think I can’t possibly miss you more than I already do. And then another day passes and I prove myself wrong.

Is there a fate crueler than this?

I just want to see you again. I just want to hold you again. One last glance, one last smile, one last laugh, one last kiss. If I knew the last time I saw you would be the LAST time I saw you, I never would have blinked. I’d have made the moment last forever. But forever isn’t nearly enough, is it?

Do you think you could ever forgive me?

-I love you I love you I love you,

Finn

Present (XI) - Finnick

[23 & 24] - THE CAPITOL; ELEVENTH FLOOR

“I thought I’d find you here."

“Haymitch.” Finnick leans in the doorway of your room, wiping sleep from his eyes. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He wanted to stay awake and bask in the little time he had left with you, but he hadn’t slept next to you in so long and it felt like he was lured in.

“Listen,” the man rubs at his scruff, “it’s not what I came here for, but I’m happy you two figured out whatever the hell…” He trails off with a particularly constipated look, waving a hand vaguely in the direction of your room.

“...Right. Thanks.” Finnick clears his throat. “I’m, uh, I’m happy too.”

“Yeah… Anyway.” He sighs. “There've been a few last-minute adjustments to the plan.”

That wakes Finnick up, his mind running over what Haymitch has already told him to do in the arena. “Oh, should I wake Star—”

“No, no. This is just for you. We realized you’d have no way of knowing when you should be heading to the pickup point, especially since things out here can change on a dime.” He steps closer, burying his hands in his pockets. “Once all of the necessary players are gathered in the arena, a sponsor gift will be sent down, probably some kind of food. Pay attention to the district and the amount that’s sent.”

Finnick squints. “Why?”

“The district tells you the day we’re coming and the amount tells you the hour—do not get the two mixed up.” Haymitch raises a hand, staring Finnick down until he nods.

“Alright, I won’t. And the pickup point?”

“When in doubt, Beetee will know.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s sure working behind the scenes and acting as a messenger is harrowing work, especially with Snow on such high alert. “Our girl managed to get in Peeta’s good graces. Not that I’m surprised; they probably bonded over how ‘fun’ and 'rewarding' it is to help the less fortunate or something. Having her plus Beetee and Wiress will definitely give Johanna and Blight some credibility in Katniss’s eyes. You, on the other hand, are gonna need to rely on something other than your good looks and Mags.” He fishes a flash of gold out of his pocket—some kind of bracelet.

Finnick takes it gingerly, examining how the light makes it shimmer.

“Take it into the arena as a token. Show it to her, preferably before she shoots you between the eyes. And, shit, if that doesn’t work, ask her…tell her to remember who the real enemy is.”

He wants to ask what that means outside of this very specific context; he wants to know what this bracelet means to him and Katniss if just seeing it will be enough for her to make him an ally. But he doesn’t. He feels like it’ll bring on more questions than it’ll answer.

“I’m gonna need you to hold onto something for me then.” He reaches into one of the deep pockets along his billowy pants until he feels the familiar shape against his fingers. He’s almost hesitant to give it away. When the Quell was announced, he was sure he would die with it on him. But it’s a part of you and he can’t take the chance of it getting destroyed. “It’s, um. It’s a photo she gave to me a few years back, I always carry it on me—”

“You don’t need to explain.” When it’s handed to him, Haymitch takes a moment to look at you. Finnick feels a little self-conscious of how faded it is from years of him running his fingers along your face—faded from years of being well loved. “I’ll make sure she gets back to you.” He’s careful when placing your photo in his pocket and Finnick feels relieved that there’s someone on the outside who wants to get you out of the arena just as much as he does.

“Good luck, kid.” He squeezes Finnick’s shoulder and hesitates. His eyes shift to the walkway that leads to where you’re resting. “When she wakes up, tell her… Tell her I said…” He trails off, his face severe, and Finnick understands painfully well.

“I will.” He promises. Haymitch purses his lips before giving a nod. Finnick watches his back as he leaves and wonders if that will be the last conversation he has with the man, one of his oldest friends.

Present (XI) - You

[23 & 24] - THE CAPITOL; THE ARENA “Your tracker.” The Peacekeeper yanks your arm up wordlessly and waits for you to pull your sleeve back. You squint around the sharp pain as he jabs the needle into your forearm, burying the tracking device under your skin. You glare at his back and rub at your now-raised skin.

You grip the straps of your seatbelt as the hovercraft begins its ascent.

As relayed from Haymitch to Finnick to you, Peeta brought you up as an ally, and, luckily enough, Katniss wasn't against the idea. It might have something to do with the conversation you and she had before the Chariot Rides or maybe it’s the fact that you're the only person Peeta suggested. It hadn't been your intention to get on his good side when you offered to train him, but you're glad you did. It makes your job that much easier.

“It's a very breathable, lightweight material, so I’m thinking of a humid environment, maybe tropical. Large bodies of water for certain. Have you decided on a token?" Your stylist pipes up from her seat beside you.

“Oh. Yeah.” You lift your hand to show her the blue bracelet sitting snugly on your wrist. She gasps and you pull your wrist away, looking around the carrier for anything that could be the cause of the sound. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing!” She waves you off with a flippant hand. “It’s just, I didn’t think I’d see you wear that bracelet again. I know Finnick never took his off, but—” You yank your arm back against your chest, holding your bracelet almost as if you can hide it.

"Wha-what..how do you, how…?”

“Us stylists confide in each other, and, well, those of us behind the scenes thought the two of you were just so cute together! I never saw you without that bracelet for five years straight and then one day, it was just gone. Poof! Oh, we were worried sick something happened with you two. But now it’s back!” She cheers, clapping her hands.

You gape at her. “You…you knew? All of you? And you never…?” Never leaked the gossip to the tabloids? To Snow?

“What? Heavens no! We're not heartless, dear. It wasn't our place. Besides,” she leans over, her crimson-painted lips pulled into a smile as she pats your thigh. Her eyes are glossy enough that you’re almost certain she’ll start crying. “You two deserve to be happy.”

You nod stiltedly, rocked by this new information. Did Finnick know? No. If either of you did, you would have been a bit nicer to your stylists. You’re quiet for the rest of the flight as she talks to you. This time around, you do try to listen to what she’s saying, nodding along at the right moments to show you’re paying attention. It’s a bit late, but you feel like you owe it to her.

She walks you down to the tube that’ll take you to the arena.

“This is it, my dear.” She sniffs, raising a hand to her mouth as she actually starts crying now. “Oh, I’m a mess. I’m sorry.” She apologizes, fanning her pale face. You don’t think about it too hard; instead, you step toward her and pull her into a tentative hug.

“It’s okay, Shimmer,” you comfort her. “And for what it’s worth, thank you.”

“It’s not okay. It’s not fair at all.” You let her squeeze you tight, allowing the hug to go on longer than you normally would. She inhales and then pulls away. She holds you by your shoulders and takes you in. “It’s been an honor working with you, my dear.”

“Same here.” You smile, but it feels more like a grimace.

You step onto the platform.

The door slides shut behind you and you start feeling sick as you rise. Sick enough that you worry you might vomit before you even make it into the arena. Your heart beats in your teeth. It’s starting to dawn on you, you realize, just how fucked you are. There’s the revolution, but there’s no guarantee you’ll even live long enough to be saved. You’ve been training like crazy, not that it was that hard with the way you grew up. It’s one thing to use your skills for physical labor; it’s another to use them in a fight to the death. That wasn’t how you survived your Games.

You hold your breath, gathering and reminding yourself of what’s important. The plan. And the plan hinges on you getting to the Cornucopia and surviving.

Your stylist tearfully waves you off as you rise, her elaborate and puffy white gown the last you see of her. You look up at the hole of light as you approach it, your nails digging into your palm.

The drastic temperature change makes you shiver and squint, raising your hand to block the blinding rays of the sun. This heat is different from the kind you’re used to. Heavier, somehow even more humid than Eleven’s muggy summers. The sun disorients you and the little wind that comes through carries the smell of salt. You push through the fog of your senses and force yourself to see.

There’s water—a shit ton of it. Saltwater if your nose is to be trusted. Shimmer was right.

The first thing you do is look for Finnick. You can’t help yourself; the need to know where he is is stronger than your need to acclimate. Your gaze bounces from tribute to tribute in your search for him. Sweat is already gathering on your brow when you finally find him. You see him, but only barely, on your left. He’s about three sections away, close enough that you make eye contact with him. It’s brief and fleeting, but long enough for your stomach to settle and your heartbeat to slow.

You’re all divided by rocky strips of land that protrude from the island the Cornucopia rests on like the spokes of a wheel. And in between each spoke are two tributes. That would mean there are twelve sections.

Mentally, you try to map out where everyone is. You note that Finnick is standing beside Chaff.

On your immediate left is Johanna, sectioned off from you by the long line of rocks. You nod at each other and relief courses through you knowing you won’t have to search for her. Beetee stands with Cecilia in between Finnick and Johanna’s respective sections. Was this placement intentional or just luck?

With half of your group near you, your eyes rove around for the missing two and—

“Shit.” You curse. You’ll have to go looking for Wiress. That’s the first part of the plan: Johanna gets Beetee, you get Wiress, and Blight waits for the four of you away from the Cornucopia. You’re lucky to be placed next to Beetee and Johanna, but it would have been nice if Wiress was a little closer. Or within your line of sight, at least.

“Let the 75th Hunger Games begin. May the odds be ever in your favor.”

The sound of Ceasar’s cohost echoes throughout the arena and you rush to gather more information. On your immediate right is the woman from Nine, about the same distance from you as the strip of land on your left. You know she never stepped foot in the training center, so you’re confident in the fact that she isn’t a threat. A little further down are Peeta and the man from Ten. You do a double-take. You hadn’t expected him to be so close to you and you have to force yourself to ignore him. You beat back the instinct to watch him like a hawk; that isn’t your job right now—it’s Mags and Finnick’s. The next section houses Woof and Mags and beside them are Enobaria and the female morphling. That’s as far down as you can see.

Your muscles tense up when he begins the countdown.

You take stock of your surroundings. Before you is the Cornucopia, and behind you is a beach and a deep forest—no, a jungle. The large body of water surrounding your platform looks pretty clear. Nothing but fish and plants, you’re sure. It’s doubtful they’d put anything deadly in there. Not when so many of the tributes can’t do anything more than doggy paddle. And certainly not this early into the Games. What an odd choice to have water this deep. Especially considering how rare a skill swimming is in the districts.

You watch the red, rotating cube as it flashes down to one, your muscles poised like a spring as you prepare to jump. You take a breath and dive in.

Deep in the woods behind the shack your family used to call home, there was a lake in an area the Peacekeepers seldom patrolled. That’s where your dad taught you to swim. You haven’t done it in a long time, not since before he was killed. You’re more than a little rusty and you wish you had aimed a little more to your left.

The cold water is a shock to your system, but you don’t have time to stay idle. You don’t sink to the bottom like you think you will; you’ve forgotten how much lighter water makes your body. The salt in the water burns your eyes every time you try to open them so you squint and swim towards where you think the strip of land is. It’s a battle. The distance, while a problem on its own, is nothing compared to the strength of the waves.

You’re panting by the time you make it there, shaky fingers grappling with the wet rocks as you pull yourself up, thanking your forethought to focus on training your upper body strength. The woman from Nine had jumped in the opposite direction, aiming for the beach instead of the Cornucopia. Smart. You’d do the same, but you need a weapon and you need to find Wiress. You push your water-laden hair out of your eyes, getting your feet under you and taking off towards the Cornucopia.

You're surprised when you make it across without slipping. You have to make the split-second decision between getting a weapon or looking for Wiress first. You glance behind you, and no one seems that adept in the water on your side. Johanna is just now clawing her way out of the waves. You guess there aren’t many reasons to swim in Seven. You make a run for the mouth of the Cornucopia with the sound of cannon fire chasing you and you hope to God that no one sets their sights on Wiress. You glance to your right, and you can blurrily make out Finnick, Katniss, and Mags helping Peeta out of the water.

You skid to a stop, your legs freezing without your actual input.

“Finnick!” You yell, and his head whips up before you fully get his name out. The water weighs his hair down, turning it a darker blond than you’re used to seeing it. You aren’t entirely sure why you called out for him. Maybe it was more for his comfort than yours; he’ll need to know that you weren’t the cause of one of the cannons firing.

“Star!” He grasps his trident tighter, scanning your surroundings for potential threats. When he sees none, his shoulders relax but his trident remains poised in anticipation.

He looks from you to his group and back again. You shake your head to stop him from taking that step forward. It was only three hours ago that you last saw him. And before that, the two of you stayed up talking about nothing until you fell asleep in each other’s arms. Nonetheless, the desire to run to him is strong. You can see him fight that same impulse you do. When the cannon fires again, Finnick leaps into action, nodding at you with an uncertain gleam in his eyes before placing Mags on his back.

You watch them all run for the jungle before getting your weapon. You spot a scythe propped up with spears and tridents and can tell immediately that it was planted for you. You take a second to analyze it distrustfully. A metal handle and a deeply curved blade, undoubtedly for show rather than harvesting. You won’t take it. It’s big and cumbersome, and it’ll slow you down in this kind of terrain. Plus, the strength needed to wield this in an actual fight is beyond you. Someone like Chaff or Brutus would get far more use out of it. Maybe even Finnick, if his trident ever fails him. It’ll just tire you out.

Instead, you opt for the twin sickles hanging next to it. They’re also bigger than any you’ve seen in Eleven. With their thick, smooth wooden handles, the blades are sharper than any you have ever used. Their weight will take some getting used to. When you notice more tributes orienting themselves on the rocks behind you, you decide the time for contemplation is over.

You sprint to your left, eyes scouring the water for a small brunette woman. Wiress is on the other side of the Cornucopia, more floating in the water than swimming.

“Wiress!” You call. She waves her hands as if you can’t see her and you nod, weary of attracting unwanted attention. Luckily, she’s been in the water for so long that the waves have carried her towards the island. It doesn’t take much to pull her out.

“You, you’re hurt?” She speaks in her usually broken speech pattern, gesturing towards you, and you’re quick to look down, thinking you’ve been hurt without knowing it. When you come back with nothing, you look back at her, confused, and she gestures again. You realize it’s a question, not a statement.

She seems tunneled in on whether you’re hurt or not. Drenched with water and frustration, you spin around in front of her. “I’m fine, Wiress, I’m fine, but we have to go.” She’s a lot more amicable now, allowing you to corral her back to where you saw Johanna last. The bodies littered around give you pause. In front of you lies a woman who is half-submerged in the pinkish water. Taking a deep breath, you step over her and drag Wiress with you.

When you get to the mouth of the Cornucopia, you spot your two allies locked in a fight. That is to say, Beetee huddles behind Johanna as she fights, clutching a spool of wire to his chest as if it were the only thing between him and certain death. Johanna and the man from Nine are locked in the most dangerous game of tug of war you’ve ever seen. They both have their hands on an axe and if this were a game of speed, she’d have him on his knees already. But he’s bigger than her, stronger too, and just as unwilling to let it go.

Her teeth are bared in exertion, legs almost buckling under the strain. He has the blade pushed alarmingly close to her neck and you don’t think about it; your body is pushed into action before you’re even aware that you’re moving. Later, you’ll think back on how easy it was. You’ll think about how quickly he stopped being a human being like you and instead became an enemy—a threat. You’ll think about it—about who he used to be before he became a body—and you will come alarmingly close to crying. For now, you kick the man in the back of the knee and he goes down with a grunt. Johanna uses the leverage the new position gives her and snatches the axe out of his hands with a huff.

You lift the sickle in your dominant hand high in the air, putting your full weight behind it as you drive the blade into the top of his head. The collision of metal against bone ricochets up your arms, leaving your muscles vibrating. He falls forward with a heavy thud and you stumble backwards. Your hands feel like they’re vibrating and the adrenaline coursing through you puts a stop to any panic before it can begin.

You move forward and have to place your foot on his back, grunting as you use both hands to yank your weapon back out. He makes a keening sound in the back of his throat—the guttural moans of a dying animal. You’re not used to being the one on this side of the slaughter. He’s still alive, but he won’t be for long. You won’t wait for the cannon to go off.

“Let’s go!” The four of you sprint towards the beach, glancing behind you in case the Careers decide to give chase. There are still plenty of tributes on their platforms, too scared to brave the water. They should hold their attention long enough for your group to get away. Running away as the Careers lay claim to the Cornucopia makes you feel like prey.

“Blight!” Johanna shouts and your head whips around, searching until you find the burly man a few yards away, waving you over. You all run to him and you take another mental stock.

Between the five of you, you have an axe, two sickles, a machete Johanna managed to snag, a spool of wire, and two brilliant minds. That should be more than enough for the plan. Johanna hands the machete over to Blight and you and her share a glance before wordlessly booking it into the jungle with your charges. Blight leads and you carry the rear.

You really hope it doesn’t take long to find Finnick.

A/N: ┬┴┬┴┤(･_├┬┴┬┴ Heyyyy, are you mad at me? I hope you didn't mind that rant in the summary. I felt like Rue's death from this perspective hurt a little more bc you know it's coming, but Star doesn't, and sometimes I get carried away with writing my thoughts. ┐(シ)┌ More Finnick audios in the next chapter to make up for the shortage in this one. Come yell at me!!!

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seedofjoseph · 2 years ago

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patroclus' funeral pyre

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Relationship: Jacob Seed x M!Reader

Rating: E (explicit)

Words: 1000

@necrodancing666: I was just wondering if you were willing to do a Jacob/male reader who gets unalived somehow by the deputy (maybe saving him/taking a bullet for him) and Jacob just goes full-on feral and slowly stops listening to Joseph

"The Lord giveth, and the Lord t–"

"Nah," Jacob Seed shook his wearied head. "I don't wanna hear nothing from God tonight," he swallowed the sob threatening to spill out. "I wanna hear from you, Joseph."

He sniffed and swapped his sleeve – your jacket's sleeve – under his nose. Another lump was launched into his throat at the thought of your scent fading from your uniform and his mind. And that day could be the very next, the full moon already outshining the dying embers of your funeral pyre.

"Then listen to me when I say this," Joseph Seed sought out his eyes, but found them closed. "I know your pain," he sighed, an almost human sound coming out of God's mouthpiece. "I know it intimately," he stroked the fading face of his late wife. "And I know it was all part of His plan–"

Jacob's jaw squeezed shut, suppressing another sob before he unhinged it to bark at his brother: "That's not what you said when he was alive," his voice was as vicious as that of a wounded beast. "That's not what you said to his face," he closed his eyes around the memory of your smile – the most beautiful he's ever seen – on the night of your wedding.

Joseph had come up the mountain to preside over the small but no less sacred ceremony himself, and even shut up God to welcome you into his family as a brother-in-law, and not his child. On that night, and every night after, you were Jacob's Chosen One, not just another soldier.

On that night, your husband carried you off to bed in his arms. You reminded him that you weren't a child, despite the decades between the two of you. You also drew his attention to his bad back, and how the heavy weight of your body was a strain on it. But he simply stretched it, cracked it, and bowed it before you. His knees snapped as he did so, but that didn't stop him from taking off your boots before slowly stripping you. From that position, he laid praise, pressing kisses on your thick thighs and your soft stomach.

Nothing made you weaker than his coarse fingers fondling you, but nothing made you stronger than his words of praise. And nothing was more sinful than preparing himself with your precum, but nothing was more sacred than him stretching your insides.

That night, you watched him cry for the first time as you worshiped his wounds, old and new. That night, you saw through his scarred skin and into his welled-up eyes. And you knew Jacob Seed beyond the brutality he bandaged himself with.

Since that night, you were his Chosen One. Wherever Jacob Seed went, you followed like a shadow. Whenever he had to swing his sword, you'd do his will like a red right hand. And when the junior deputy came to drag him to Hell with her, you shielded him from his faith with your own body.

Jacob Seed was fully sobbing now, slamming the balcony doors shut, and sealing himself from the smell of your burning corpse. "You said the Gates of Eden were open to him, that he'd walk through them with or without me."

He fully faced him now, in the dim light of his desk lamp. "I was meant to be your sacrifice, not him. It was never meant to be him. It was only ever me. The deputy," he was laughing now, as bitter as the epiphany he was experiencing. "Your chosen one? Yeah, your Chosen One was meant to sacrifice me."

"You are not my sacrifice," Joseph raised his voice, rousing from the chair. "You never were my sacrifice. I've already made mine," he looked up towards the ceiling, crying out. "My Faith–"

"She's rollin' in her goddamn grave," Jacob spit out.

"What?" Joseph's voice cracked, his eyes now returning from the heavens back to earth. "What did you–"

"You heard me," his own voice was as steady as ever. "And she hears you goin' 'round callin' other women by her name."

His trigger hand was fidgeting. "Brother–"

"Oh, so I'm your brother now? I wasn't your brother when I asked for the deputy. You made me ask God for forgiveness for that one."

"Jacob," he gritted his teeth and grabbed his trigger hand with the other. "Brother, I can't give her to you. She is not yours to take."

"And why's that? God change his mind 'bout her faith, too?"

"You’re mourning," he answered, solemnly. "Your pain has blinded you," he unclenched his fist, and relaxed. "When you open your eyes in the morning, you’ll see things as clearly as I do."

“Nah," the widower shook his wearied head again. "I see 'em right now," he sniffed the collar of your jacket and grounded himself in his grief. "Clear as day," He opened the balcony doors, then, the office doors: "Good night, sleep tight and get the fuck off my mountain."

"Good night, Jacob," his brother retained his composure even as he got the door slammed behind him.

That night, he let himself be weak. He let himself sink into your jacket, into your pillow. He let himself inhale the smoke from your funeral pyre and choke on his own cries. And, that night, celebrated your life by playing the memory of you back in his mind, behind his wet eyes.

His memory of your eyes looking up into his, and they pooled with tears of joy instead of misery. While he was weak in the knees, you were strong as you got down on yours, choking on his cock. And you didn’t give up until your drool and his cum foamed around the rim of your mouth. That night, his spit-slick hand couldn’t even come close to the tightness of your throat.

And on that night, he had a vision of his own. He saw you looking down on him from the heavens as he burned through the Bliss fields in search of your murderer. He saw you lighting his way through Holland Valley like the sun, leading him to her. And he saw you smiling at the sight of Joseph howling over her corpse, as he had over yours.

The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.

#far cry 5 #jacob seed #jacob seed x reader #jacob seed x male reader #I posted it without tagging it first #fanfic #my fic

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starandcloud · 1 year ago

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Sweet Mortal

Enva x Human Reader Angst

TW: Reader's death, Destruction, Blood

Divine Rivals Mainlist

Mainlist

Every God, Goddess, and everything in between, had a mortal who they cherished. Achilles had Patroclus and Apollo had Hyacinth, and so on. Enva was no different, she cherished this baker’s child. She couldn’t say why though. Maybe it was their peaceful presence, or maybe it was their kind eyes, or their graceful movement, or their soft smile and gentle voice, or maybe it was how perfect they looked in the rising sun, or… whatever it was… you were perfect. She visited the bakery so often that you had her order memorized.

The chiming of the door’s bell alerted you of someone’s entrance and, with a quick glance at the clock, you know exactly who it was.

“Ellie, welcome back!”

That name was a cover up. Enva had told you that name when you asked a name for the order and… she just stuck with it.

“It’s good to be back.”

She said, her voice light and soft. As if she hadn’t just sang hundreds of men and women to fight in her war of death. You crossed over the line that separated the kitchen and the dining room. Your arms wrapped around her and Enva buried her face in your hair as she hugged you back. You always smelled like fresh baked bread and lemon. Enva hadn’t noticed how her arms hug tightened around you until she heard you laugh.

“Ellie, as much as I appreciate the hug, I do need to get back to work.”

You softly spoke, you, breath danced across her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Just… another minute… please…,” Enva begged, “I’m leaving town for a while and I… I don’t want to forget you…”

Her voice wavered slightly as she gripped onto your work shirt and hid her face in your hair.

“Alright… One more minute Els…”

You muttered, running your hand soothingly up and down her back. Nearly putting her to sleep. The hug lasted a lot longer than a minute, but neither of you quite seemed to care. You enjoyed the hug and Enva enjoyed how close you were, how she could feel your heat and your warmth of your skin…. You were just so… perfect. You were a beauty that only a few mortals ever possessed. You were so fragile in her arms, so breakable… so… mortal. Even as you gave Enva her pastries and gave her that soft smile you felt so… lost. Even as she left the town leaving the bakery, and you, far behind; she couldn’t help but wonder what she’d do without you. And… that answer came to quickly.

Returning to the town, a month later, Enva…. She expected to see it still thriving but… The blood soaked ground and the stench of death hung heavy in the air.

“No…”

Enva mumbled. Her feet thumped against the ground as she weaved and wound her way to the bakery.

“Please no…”

She begged as her clothes got caught on the remains of the building and tore but… she didn’t quite care. All she cared about was…

“No!”

Enva screamed.

Her heart pounded, she could hear it in her ears. She swore she could feel the blood in her veins. Her knees exploded with little red flowers when they collided with the ripped up cement. Streams of blood filled the depressions in her knees as they made friends with the rubble. Her eyes flicked wildly over you. Searching, hunting, for any sign that your breath would return.

“Please… Please wake up… Please…”

She begged, her hands shaky lifted and place a red print on your cheek. Gentle freckles of red decorated your snow white face. Tears made their home in her eyes, growing and growing until… Pat pat pat They softly fell against your red dotted shirt, wetting the ugly red that was splattered over your chest.

“No… no please… please wake up…”

No response came from you and soft sobs filled the air, Then… A scream that rattled the skies and shook the earth filled the air. Breaking the rubble loose making it crash into the earth. You were gone, and it was her fault. And that would eat her alive.

#Enva #Divine rivals #Enva x human reader #Enva x mortal reader #Enva angst #Divine Rivals Angst #faeriesberries

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lavender-at-heart · 2 years ago

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✩ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔸𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕤 + 𝔹𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕤 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤✩

Pairing: Achilles, Briseis x gn!child reader(platonic ovi 😦)

Genre: headcannons , fluff , light violence

Notes: this was requested by @helei-brain and argh I'm sorry it took so long to write this but life just keeps getting in the way truly truly sorry. Also um the Trojan war? Never heard of her 🥰 and sorry for this being so short.

----------------------------------------------------

Ok this would be utter chaos/pos

You'd live with your mother in Troy because most often your dad would be off hacking heads somewhere else

Your mother is very sweet and calm and of course very religious

Your dad however is violent , loud and slightly arogant

Briseis would teach you about the gods and how to respect them

Teach you philosophy and astronomy and anything you'd ever show curiosity in.

Take you or long walks , teach you to weave and how to get along with the high class pukes

But your dad would spend 3 hours a day teaching you how to remove someone's arm from their socket or how to knock some creepy Old man's lights out

He would teach you to swim and ride a horse properly

He'd always make a fool of himself in front of your family and you and your mom would be internally screaming the whole time

You would miss him terribly when he went off to fight but would always bring you back a token of apology, the finest linen , strings of jewels and jugs of rich oils for your mother.

If you ever fell in love your parents reactions would definitely be...something

Briseis would be happy but ask a million questions , she can't help but worry

I think Achilles would punch your partner even if they were one of the holiest gods

And let's not forget about your beloved relatives

Sparing with patroclus is a regular occurrence, and you often explore the shores of Troy with him.

And although Achilles might not like it , passing time and learning from Hector and Paris

Hector is much like his sister teaching you right from wrong and makes sure you are being treated justly

Paris is the fun uncle.

Teaches you to shoot and takes you on his hunting trips

Buys you gifts every time you visit

Gramp priam is nice , he also buys you expensive items but distances himself sometimes because of his distain for your father.

You have never met Achilles mother and you probably never will

You love your parents dearly and are grateful for every day you have with them.

#paris of troy #troy 2004 #Achilles #briseis #troy headcannons #briseis headcannons #Achilles x reader #briseis x reader #hector of troy

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smallraindrops-blog · 2 years ago

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Wake Me From This Dreaming

Word counts: 8.1K

Hypnos x male reader

Warnings: violent, trauma, family issues, war, cursing, drunkness, talk of death, death, sex work, no beta.

Notes: First off, I just want to say thank you to everyone who has been waiting for this part. I swear to god, Yall are the most patient readers ever.

The second half of this part will hopefully be out soon.

Please heed all warnings.

Again folks, thank you. ♥️

Patroclus’ last letter

I hope this letter will never be read. That somehow even against the will of the gods and fates themselves, we will all live. I hope we will return to the house as a family. That we will never pick up another weapon for the rest of our days.

If you are reading this then I suppose the gods had gotten their wishes.

I am lucky to say I have loved and been loved in return. Both wonderfully heavy burdens I will never trade anything for. Not even the gods can take that from me now.

To my beloved.

Achilles, if you are reading this with our son, I love you more than I can put to words. I can remember the first time I saw you, young and beautiful and bright. Fingers playing on a lyre, golden and divine in the afternoon light. I still see you like that even all these years later. My Achilles. My beloved.

Take care of our son. He admires you so much. I remember watching him when he was still a very young lad, trailing behind you and trying to walk just like you. His footprints were so small next to yours.

I love you. I will see you again.

To my son.

I never thought I would have a child. The idea of it seemed impossible. Then we found you and you found a place in my heart, in my very soul. Loving and raising you was the easiest and greatest thing I have ever done.

You are my child and I am your Pa, no matter how much time has passed. Don't you ever doubt that.

Be a good lad. Mind your footwork and don’t forget to eat. Eat for our sake if you need a reason. Should I be the first to go, then take care of your father and forgive him for what to come. His heart was always too big for him.

My child, I love you. Be good. Be brave.

The urn was simple with geometric borders on the top but you could tell from the sturdy craftsmanship that it had been brought before the war had started. You sighed, rubbing your eyes.

It made sense to plan for one’s death, just as your parents had done, even if there was a small childish part of you that didn’t want to admit it, wanted to hold on to the anger of being left behind. You thought of the pitying looks the others gave you, even Peros who for once didn’t have anything to say.

You pulled your hand away and started again at the urn.

At least your parents were together now and no longer in pain. They will be placed in the tomb together and if the afterlife did exist, then they would be together.

What more could a son ask for?

You heard footsteps, the clink of armor and turned around to see Pyrrhus lifting up the tent flap and coming in without even offering a greeting. You saw the faint outlines of bodies outside the tent. So Pyrrhus made sure to come with bodyguards even while dressed in his own elaborate armor and his sword by his hip. You thought he looked rather garnished compared to yours and everyone else.

You were glad you kept your own simple armor on, Achilles’ spear close by. You also knew where all the weapons were, the ones on display and the ones hidden away.

Pyrrhus made a faint sound of disgust, his neat red braid spilling over his shoulder as he studied the tent.

It was still a shock to see him. He really did look a lot like Achilles, but not perfectly so. It was more than just his red hair. There was something off with the way he looked at people, of the way he smiled, all teeth. It was like Pyrrhus knew what he was supposed to do but couldn’t muster up the actual feeling behind it.

It puts you on edge.

“This is the tent my father spent his time in?” Pyrrhus scoffed, putting weight on the word ‘my father’. You wanted to laugh. Pyrrhus sounded like a child even if he was older than you.

“Father preferred more simple details.” You replied, trying to keep the tension out of your voice. It was the truth. Achilles would scoff over Agamemnon and other kings for fancy silverware and chairs in their tent. The only times your father bothered with details was when he was getting a gift for your Pa.

Pyrrhus grunted, clearly not believing you. With his hands clasped behind his back, he began a slow lap around the tent. The look of faint distaste on his face only added to his arrogance. You stayed by the table, only moving your eyes to follow him.The urn hidden behind your back.

“I heard rumors, you know.” Pyrrhus offered up airily, like you and him were old friends. “That you were actually his slave’s son and not his. I must admit, we look nothing alike.”

“It is no secret that I am adopted. And Patroclus wasn’t his slave.” You said, letting the implications hang in the air. It felt wrong to call him by that and not by Pa but Pyrrhus wasn’t the first to try this. Most would understand what you were saying, their eyes darting away for a moment then looking back at you in a new light.

Your so-called brother only scoffed. “So I have been told. I highly doubt it, not when there are plenty of beautiful spear brides.” You noticed his eyes lingered on of the wars prize Achilles had claimed, beautifully made swords and shields. Below those were a simple wooden chest, filled with jewelry and gold.

If that was what he wanted, then so be it. You couldn’t care less. Then Pyrrhus turned back to you and slowly made his way.

Pyrrhus stopped in front of you, almost to your chin. You shouldn’t feel so smug for having quite a few inches over him. Not even you knew Pyrrhus hated you- was jealous of you for daring to share the title of son with him.

You had pitied him at first. It must hurt to know that your father had raised another child while being sent away and one not even of his own blood. Now with him in front of you, you just hated him. He may be of Achilles’ blood but he was not his son.

“I won’t allow some paupers’ orphan the honor of being my Father’s son, nor do I plan on calling you my brother.” Pyrrhus said, his tone final. He was used to people obeying him and it showed. He was waiting for you to bow your head, to acknowledge his sole claim to Achilles' legacy.

Your mouth twitched up in a grim smile. “I don’t think that is up to you. Father signed the paperworks, he had named me as one of his heirs in front of society and not even you can change that.”

You leaned closer as Pyrrhus snarled quietly, his white teeth bared and his blue eyes burned into yours. It was also the first real emotion you saw from him.

Hatred.

“Call me brother or don’t. I don’t care.” You told him quietly. “Far I am concerned, this war has already taken everything I cared about. So run around like a foolish child carrying the legacy of a dead man like it was yours when we both know it isn’t. I hope this nightmare of a war is everything you wanted, Pyrrhus.“

Pyrrhus was breathing heavily and you saw the faint shaking of his lips. You moved back, the urn still safe. Your parents’ ashes untouched by this madness.

“Leave.” You told him. “Now.”

“I finally read up on that philosopher, Protagoras. Did you know that he was Plato’s teacher?” Hypnos said, running a hand through your hair. His nails lightly scratched your scalp. You blinked up at him slowly, taking in his words. Your head pillowed on his lap with your limbs spread out lazily. It was ridiculous how large Hypnos’ bed was, that you had enough space to spread out.

Hypnos didn’t meet your eyes, staring thoughtfully at the constellation of Virgo. You stole the moment to simply admire the line of his collarbone and his bare chest.

“I actually didn't.” You said, turning your head and pressing a kiss against Hypnos’ soft belly and getting a squirm from him. He smacked your shoulders with a huff and you fought a grin as you returned back to your place on his lap. “I must admit I don’t see his influence on Plato. Old man seemed happy to accept only his truth.”

Hypnos laughed, his hand going back to running though your hair. It made you feel like a pet but you found you didn’t mind, not from Hypnos. His bright golden eyes found yours and no, you definitely didn’t mind.

“There is such a thing as objective truth though.” Hypnos told you matter factly with a smile. He made a point to tap his finger on your nose and you scowled. You caught his hand before he could pull away and placed his hand on your chest. Your hand was broader than Hypnos’ and covered his effortlessly.

Idly, you gave a squeeze, soaking in the warmth of his palm against your chest.

“Pluto misunderstood, maybe willingly so. He was a wealthy, educated man who was comfortable in his place of the world.” You replied, running your thumb along his. “Who gets to decide what the objective truth is? Kings? Farmers?”

You paused then quietly. “Gods?”

Hypnos raised a brow but said nothing. However there was a faint smile on his face, as if encouraging you to continue.

You licked your lips, thinking. You weren’t good at debates but you always liked Protagoras’ line of thinking. It made sense to you, everyone lived differently, have their own experience coloring how they view the world and therefore everyone have their own truth, their own code.

“I don’t know but I think he was right to tell the others to listen to everyone, not just the wealthy and powerful.” You paused, “I do know that I don’t know what the objective truth is but I know what mine is. Protagoras had a saying, ‘Man is the measure of all things.’”

There was a moment of silence and you wondered if maybe you said too much. You did directly insult a god while in his lap. You risked a glance at Hypnos’ face and only saw fondness.

Hypnos pulled his hand back up and cupped your face and you swallowed. You were unable to look away from him, his eyes bright and lulling. His white curls fell around his face, cloud-like and you almost told him he really did look like a dream, soft and pretty and unreal.

”You are a good man, do you know that?” He whispered as he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss on your lips. His lips were soft against yours, tasting faintly sweet. Before you could return the kiss, make him stay with you, he pulled away with a smile.

He resumed running his hand through your hair, humming a lullaby. You knew this one even if there was no name for it. The song called for simpler times, of bonfires and laughter.

You closed your eyes, and let the world drift away.

Asphodel was an unfamiliar place to you. When you were alive, you had heard of its verdant plains and flowers. You had always thought it sounded nice. You weren’t sure where you would end up but you had hoped for Asphodel since it had sounded far better than Tartarus and you weren’t worthy of Elysium.

You eyed the molten magma warily as you followed Thanatos. You saw two children, an older girl and a younger boy huddled on one of the rocks. The boy was tossing pebbles in the magma but the girl stared at you and Thanatos with wide, dark eyes.

You winced and looked away.

You had heard of the river Phlegethon overflooding Asphodel from your father. Zagreus had mentioned it as well but you haven’t realized how bad it was. You saw a group of elders huddled together, staring off into nowhere.

Surely Master Hades or his queen must be trying to do something for these people. These weren’t the monsters that haunted Tartarus. As far as you knew, most of the people here were farmers or craftsmen with their families. Simple folks who just lived their lives yet they were being punished for it.

“Mortal, stop gawking. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can both return to our duties.” Thanatos snapped. You scowled as you met his hard stare. It still amazed you that Hypnos and Thanatos were twins. Their eyes may have the same golden color but Thanatos’ stare was hardened and narrowed with his mouth tight in disapproval.

“I thought Tartarus was supposed to be the place of punishment for mortals, not Asphodel.” You snapped back. “And I have a name, god of death.”

“Watch it, mortal.” Thanatos whirled around, looming over you but you remained in place, meeting his glare with your own. There was a beat of silence as you and him stared each other down.

You opened your mouth to say something but you didn’t. You shut your mouth, lips tightening.

It was only the memory of Hypnos’ nervous glance between you and his twin that held your tongue. Do it for Hypnos’ sake, he was worth putting up with Thanatos for however long this took.

Thanatos hummed, unimpressed and turned back around. You didn’t immediately follow, you took a deep breath - thinking of Hypnos, of the promises you made- and let it out. Then you made your legs obey.

Magma boiled and spilled over rocks, uncaring of the warring mortal and god in its wake.

You debated pulling away the bottle of wine from Achilles’ fist but you knew it would be a fight you would lose. Achilles was a good fighter and had a fast left hook on a good day. You eyed the first empty bottle that was close to the end of the table, normally any wine you did have was with dinner and watered down.

You just weren’t expecting to find your father alone in his and Patroclus’ tent, drunk as a skunk. You had never seen him drunk before. But things were different in war, you supposed. You had been treated as a man since the first battle, marching back into camp with prizes - some made of gold, some weeping as they held onto their daughters- and dried blood smeared on your helmet.

It was weeping and pleading that followed you into nightmares. It even drowned out the sounds of screams.

So you joined him, planning on just one drink and helping your father sober up.

You felt light for the first time since arriving so you polished off your third- no fourth drink. You let him pour another cup for himself and you. You told yourself to sip, to slow down. You took a gulp without meaning to, a pleasant fuzzy warmth in your stomach growing.

“I can’t tell you how many times over the years I have thought about bringing Pyrrhus to come live with us.” Achilles said out of nowhere before he swallowed half of his wine.

You blinked, feeling lightheaded. “Pyrrhus?”

“My firstborn. Your older brother. I think. I used to not be able to say his name. ”

You wrinkled your nose, taking a sip of wine then blinked when you realized you already finished off the cup. How many have you had already?

You let your Father pour you another drink. “I don’t have a brother.”

“Yes, you do.” Achilles snapped. You scowled but said nothing. You blinked at the red wine, the taste of it thick on your tongue. For a moment you thought of the baker’s son back home, of how the wine would taste on his lush lips. You didn’t love him but you enjoyed how his mouth felt against yours.

Then Achilles sighed loudly with a rueful grin. You took a drink, embarrassed that you have forgotten where you were.

“Well, no I guess not, huh lad?” He said, taking a deep drink of his wine. “Can’t call him your brother if I only acknowledge him when I have to. Today is his birthday.”

You said nothing. You wanted to go find Pa and get him to make your father act normal again. You frowned, realizing you haven’t seen him all evening.

“Where is Pa?”

“Hm?” Achilles blinked then waved a hand. “Saving lives. In the medical tent. Being useful unlike the rest of us. If I had any skill at politics, I could have given him a school. He likes teaching. Brilliant and handsome. All I had done was hurt him but he kept me anyway.”

You sighed and then you poured him and yourself a drink. Achilles rubbed his flushed face with a sigh. You were willing to bet that yours looked similar. “You know what, lad? He didn’t want you here in the war, Patroclus wanted to send you to Chiron. But I pushed for it. If you can make a name for yourself here, you will be set for life.”

“I know Father.” You said quietly. Achilles had told you this before. Making a name for yourself. Glory to gods and his parents. You didn’t feel like there was much glory to be found among the mud and bodies.

Achilles scoffed, his blonde hair spilling over his shoulders. “Father. Some fucking father I am. I wasn’t there at the first one’s birth and I sent my other one to dance with death.”

“You are not a bad father! You’re just having some stupid useless old man regrets.” You snapped, slamming a fist on the table, causing hairline cracks in the thick wood. The empty bottle rattled and broke on the ground. You and Achilles blinked at it for a long moment. Then you reached, placing a hand on his shoulder causing him to look at you again.

“You are not a bad father. Pa wouldn’t let you.” You repeated. “Beside. We all know I would have followed you both all the way here if you did try to leave me at Chiron. At least this way we are together.”

Achilles blinked sluggishly then a warm, drunken laugh bubbled out between his lips. You found yourself doing the same, both of you filling the tent with laughter.

“You would have, you little shit.” Achilles hiccuped, sounding helplessly fond, throwing an arm on your shoulder and pulled you into a clumsy hug. You nodded, still laughing as you pulled away and lifted your drink. Achilles did the same.

An hour or so later, you heard Patroclus come into the tent. You blinked at him, realizing dimly you were on your back on the cold ground. You grinned at his shocked glance. Achilles snored from under the table, a hand still curled around his cup.

Patroclus opened his mouth, but you pressed a finger to your lips. “Shh. Father is sleeping.” You told him loudly.

“I can see that, my son.” Patroclus said dryly. You laughed at his tone, not seeing his frustration turned into soft amusement as he watched you laugh.

Patroclus ran a hand down his face, walked over to the table and downed what was left of yours and Achilles’ drink. You couldn’t help but laugh again. He walked over the bed and grabbed a pillow and blanket before returning to you.

“Lift your head.” He ordered. You obeyed, sighing as your head landed on softness and the blanket rested on you, pulled up to your chin.

“Father isn’t bad.” You slurred, sleep already pulling you under. “Just… life doesn’t work like it should sometimes.”

Patroclus stopped, his dark eyes softened as he leaned down to you. He brushed your hair out of your face. And you felt like a small child again. You swallowed, desperately wishing you were. Life was so much easier.

“I know lad. Be good and go to sleep. You are going to have a headache tomorrow.” Patroclus said, his words fading. You hummed, eyes closed.

Past the magma and rocky cliffs, what you saw only made your guts twisted in shame. While so-called heroes fought and partied among the beauty of Elysium, there were whole families suffering right under them. Even the house should be ashamed, living and working in such comfort themselves. You swallowed the knot that formed in your throat.

You will have to talk to Hypnos about this. If you were pathetic for wishing to hear Hypnos’ easy and cheerful voice to smooth away the shame you felt then pathetic you shall be.

You shook your head, clearing your remorseful thoughts. Right now, it was no use to anyone.

Walking around like this was a waste of time. This land of fire was unfamiliar to you, and you suspected that most of Asphodel was unknown to Thanatos as well. However, the locals would know far more and would remember anything unfamiliar.

“Thanatos.” You called out, “We should try talking to some of the shades here. We clearly aren’t getting anywhere by just wandering around.”

The god ignored you.

Of course.

You bit back a snarl and marched ahead and got right in front of him. “I know you heard me.”

Thanatos gave you a cool look. “Do you think you have the right to address me by my first name, mortal?” His sentence ended with a pointed tone.

You sucked in a long, deep breath. And remind yourself this was Hypnos’s brother and you couldn’t reach for his neck and strangle Thanatos because Hypnos loved his twin. Thanatos watched you with an almost smirk on his face and you got the sense that he was pleased at your anger. As if it proved something to him.

“I truly don’t understand.” Thanatos continued, driving the needle deeper. “My brother still acts like a childish brat with a toy but I thought the shine on you would have worn off by now.”

“Shut your mouth.” You warned, the words slipping out before you could stop it. “I don’t care what you say about me but not even you are allowed to speak of him like that. Not to me.”

Thanatos’ golden eyes grew wide in anger, his hands tightening around his scythe.

You should apologize, bow your head and accept your punishment. You knew it. But you didn’t and you won’t. You had thought maybe Thanatos and Hypnos had reached an understanding since they were talking more but apparently you were wrong.

“Hypnos loves you. For some reason that is beyond my mortal understanding.” You said quietly, “He makes so many excuses for you and your cruel words to him. Yet you can’t give him even a smile in return.”

A beat of silence, only bubbling magma and the faint cries of small Hydras filled the area.

Then Thanatos pulled back, an unnerving calm taking over his face. You stayed in place, you faced worse things than this god.

“If it came between his family and you, do you really think he would pick you over us?” Thanatos spat out. His hand still wrapped around his weapon, ready to strike you down.

It hurts to even hear it, let alone the thought of it. You feared that day more than you feared the end of time itself. You shoved the thought away. You won’t let Thanatos see how deeply those words dug in.

“I love him enough to not make him choose. Can you say the same?” You replied, sounding more calm than you actually felt.

The air grew thick and uncomfortable, neither of you backing down. Something flickered over Thanatos’ face but it was gone before you could put a name to it.

You opened your mouth to continue, hoping -praying- that maybe you can finally break past Thanatos’ defense.

“Thanatos! Y/N!” A familiar voice broke the silence, and you and him both turned. Zagreus waved, on one of the few boats. When the boat got close enough, Zagreus took a flying leap and landed on solid ground with a cheeky grin.

The unspoken words hang heavy between you and Thanatos, enough so that even Zagreus’ smile diminished. Anything you saw on Thanatos’ face had disappeared, lost to you now.

“What are you doing here?” Thanatos asked, watching as Zagreus hurried over. His footsteps left black footmarks against the hot ground. He flashed another grin once close enough. You saw a faint blue trailed behind him, carrying the smell of the sea with it.

“I heard from my parents what you guys were trying to do and thought I could help out.”

“Didn’t Master Hades-“ Thanatos spoke but Zagreus waved his words away with an easy smile.

“This is more important. We can’t have a shade, even if he was a hero, attacking and disrespecting members of the house like the way Pyrrhus had been lately.”

Zagreus turned to you. “I know there are some family issues, maybe I can help you guys with that. Gods knows, my father and I had our share of disagreements. We still do. ”

You twisted your mouth, “I appreciate it but this isn’t one of those issues that can be helped.”

Zagreus raised a brow but said nothing. You almost rolled your eyes, Zagreus was nosy enough that he could even the most busybody aunties a run for their money.

You glanced at Thanatos, “I was telling Lord Thanatos we need to speak to the locals, they would notice before anyone else if something is wrong. No one can hide from every pair of eyes.”

Thanatos side-eyed you using his title but shook his head. “And I was telling the mortal that it was a waste of time. We need to go deeper in. They won’t be walking among the other mortals otherwise we would have already found them.”

You noticed he still didn’t use your name, rolling your eyes and from the brief frown on Zagreus’ face, he did noticed as well.

“Then we should split up.” Zagreus offered. His back was straight and his face was calm, not giving anything away. He looked like a prince, confident in his own authority. He had grown since you first met him. You were torn between a moment of pride and wanting to reach over and ruffle his already messy hair.

“I think both of you are right. Sir y/n, are you comfortable going to the villages on the outskirts? Words will spread faster if there are gods looking for Pyrrhus. We might end up losing them.” Zagreus nodded to Thanatos, “We can keep going this way since we both know this area better.”

You and Thanatos glanced at each other then nodded to Zagreus.

You knew he wanted to get away from you, just as you wanted to get away from him.

It was obvious you were one of Hades’ workers yet the townsfolk didn’t do much beyond sparing you a glance. Some of the elderly shades eyed you from over their chessboard but said nothing.

You couldn’t help but be glad to see some form of civilization. It was a small town, broken by rivers of magma and jutting rocks. But it was proof that mortals had found a way to cope.

You hung back, resting against one of the rocks as people moved around. There were mothers chatting among themselves as children played a game of hopscotch. You heard a shade pushing his wares, promising the finest rugs. You saw some men, talking about the latest fight in Elysium as money exchanged hands.

It felt like a painfully normal town. Which meant it if one knew how to, it could be easy to hide among the shades. There had been raids but from the lax feeling you got from the townsfolk, it hasn't happened here. Not yet.

You didn’t talk about it, not to your parents or Hypnos even. You didn’t want them to know what you did on the run from Pyrrhus. You had learned how to watch people during that time. Your life depended on it but it always sounded like a pitiful excuse to you. You didn't want to see the disappointment mark their faces. Especially not Hypnos’.

But what was done was done.

So you watched and waited.

Some of the shades glanced curiously in your direction but otherwise went on with their business. A dark-haired woman with kohl lined eyes and an almost sheer chiton smiled at you but with a shake of your head, she gave a playful pout then moved on.

You wondered if you could talk Hypnos into wearing something like that. Maybe with the circlet…

You reminded yourself firmly that you were here for a reason.

It wasn’t long until you a man moved a little too easily between the crowd, sure of his place in the world in a way that spoke of noble upbringing. It stood out amongst the common shades. He must have felt your eyes on him because he turned his head and stared in your direction with narrowed eyes.

You watched how his eyes widened when he saw the mark of Hades on you. He quickly ducked his head, and hurried off. You pushed off from the rock and trailed after him.

You hung back, scowling at shades that brushed against you. It was only when the town became more broken up and you had weaved around carefully over boiling magma, that you worked where he was going. It was a cave, men made from how perfectly circled the entrance was.

You saw the sign for brothel and cursed under your breath. You just hoped Hypnos would be understanding. You followed the shade in, spotting a warm light far off. The shade turned around and saw you but just before he took off, you caught him by the back of his cloak and slammed the shade against the wall.

The man, young and round face, stammered. “What is the meaning of this?”

You narrowed your eyes, “Are you really going to try that with me?”

The man laughed nervously “I don’t-“

“Sir Y/N. Let him go.” A raspy voice broke the tension and you and him both looked at the source. It was an older, plump woman, her thin lips were a bloody red with a clay pipe dangling from them. Her silver hair was pulled into a bun with strands framing her wrinkled face. She had been beautiful once.

She scoffed, deeply unimpressed by both of them.

“Madam, I didn't know-“ the man rushed to speak but she held up a wrinkled hand and he quieted down immediately. He looked more scared of her than he did of you. You eyed him but loosen your grip and the man took off like a shot, out of the cave and your sight.

Madam looked you up and down with her dark eyes, her face impassive. “So this is what Lord and Master Hades sent us to deal with the roaming band of thieves and rapists? A house pet?”

Then she paused, a smirk curling around her pipe. “I forget my manners. I mean Greece’s greatest and most honorable heroes of course.”

“Just me, Madam.” You said, nodding your head. The less knowledge she had on you, the better. You didn’t like that she already knew your name somehow. Or being called a house pet.

She huffed a puff of smoke out. “Follow me.” She turned and didn’t wait for you, her silver hair gleamed in the light.

You hesitated for a moment but this was likely the only real clue you have of Pyrrhus’ whereabouts so you followed.

Very, very reluctantly.

The cave twisted and turned, with curtains for privacy here and there. You ignored the sounds of moaning. You kept your eyes firmly planted on the woman ahead of you.

“I was a young whore when I saw one of your fights, Sir Y/N. Never saw anything like that again. It was over so quickly. Every single one you fought that night.” Madam said thoughtfully. You blinked, trying to place her but you came up with nothing. Not surprising since you barely remembered anything, just trying not to get caught.

Then you grimaced, there was easily several decades between yours and her death.

“Do I want to know how young?”

Madam snorted in a very unladylike way that made you want to smile. “No, you don’t.”

“I thought this village had been untouched by the raids.” You said. “Normally a place is emptied out afterwards.”

Madam asked in front of a wooden door and turned to you. “You’re right. For now, we have been lucky because we have my business here, and plenty of luxuries the others don’t have.”

She took a deep drag on her pipe. “I handle a lot of problems for these fine folks of this town, even before the gods left us to burn in the magma.”

“I’m sorry.”

Madam shrugged. “Gods will do as gods please. I’ve let the men stay here with the promise they will leave this town and my people alone.”

You bit the harsh words of letting raiders stay and just nodded. She saw the look on your face and pointed a finger at you. “It was more than what the gods have done for us. And it meant safety for us.”

You let out a breath, she wasn't wrong. “What changed?”

Madam sighed, “Pyrrhus.”

Which told you everything and nothing at the same time.

Madam turned to the wooden door and pushed it open, and you followed her. You blinked when you saw several warriors chained to the wall, dirty and pissed off.

“You fucking old hag, let us go!” A blonde man ordered and you jerked in shock. You knew that voice. You stared at the blonde man, he was older now with silver in his hair and a thick belly on him.

“Simon, son of Andreas?” You said quietly, and Simon blinked wide eyes at you. There was a beat of silence as the rest of the group worked out who you were. You looked at each of their faces and were dismayed that you recognized all of them.

You knew all of them. All four of these warriors had been under Fathers’ then your leadership during the war and now they were chained up in some whorehouse.

“Simon, Chremon, Gallup, Leon.” You stated, your disappointment clear. All of them winced at your tone. You heard a faint hum of approval from Madam then she stepped out, leaving you alone with them.

“Thank the gods!” Simon cried once the door closed. “Y/N, quick get us out of here.”

“Simon, shut up. He isn’t here to help us.” Chremon snapped at Simon. He glanced at you then at his feet, his jaw tight. Simon blinked at him then glanced at you then he looked toward the other men for support. He found none.

You walked close, just out of kicking range. “What the fuck happened?” It was rare for you to swear but you were at a loss of what else to say.

Of course, weak willed Simon kept talking. “It was Pyrrhus’ fault, we were just doing what we were told to do! He offered gold and whores for days and something else to do besides rot up there In Elysium.”

You pitched the space between your eyes and reminded yourself you couldn’t punch him, not yet anyway. The other men stayed quiet so you looked toward the rest of the group.

“Well?” You asked, dropping your hand back down. They said nothing, their eyes downcast. These were men you had led into battle with death all but a promise yet now they acted like cowards.

You scoffed, “All of you realized that none of you won’t see Elysium ever again? Master Hades personally sent me to handle this. He is not pleased.”

That got their attention and even Simon was quiet. Their faces were grim. Surely they knew it would have caught up with them eventually?

You heard Madam return with another footstep trailing behind her. She rejoined the room, her expression cool. You didn't doubt that she had seen countless power plays, and likely been part of them herself.

“Did they tell you?” She asked you calmly. You shook your head, frustration clear on your face. You needed answers, not this whatever this game was. Madam waved for the other person to come in and you frowned, a growing pit of dread in your stomach.

It was a pretty young man though his beauty was nothing compared to Hypnos’. He had ashy blonde curls that framed his face and pale skin. He was slender in the same way as Hypnos and he bit down on his bottom lip just like Hypnos. His icy blue eyes were almost round as Hypnos’ as he glanced at you then back to Madam.

It was bizarre how similar they were at first glance. He could easily pass for a faint vision of your beloved. But you saw the eyebrows were wrong, the apple of his cheeks not high enough, his nose too sharp and his mouth was locked into a pout, unlike Hypnos’ sweet, cheerful grin.

Nowhere close enough.

“Alex. Tell Sir Y/N what happened.” She ordered. Alex nodded, and you saw in his eyes there was a sharpness that Hypnos thankfully lacked.

“I came in for my shift, and I heard from the girls how rough Pyrrhus was. And that he was looking for a particular type among the girls, innocent and slim with curls.” Alex’ lips twitched ruefully as he waved a hand toward himself. “I went to try to give the girls a break from him since I thought I might suit. And I can handle some rough manhandling.”

Then any amusement he had dropped from his face. He tugged down the top of his chiton, and you saw faint shining light from chest down to his stomach. It had mostly healed but it still looked painfully deep. “That asshole took one look at me, fucked me without paying and kept asking what kill gods- like I would bloody know-than he tried to kill me while I tried to clean myself up.”

You stared at the ugly mark, the words sinking in. In your mind’s eye, you saw torn flesh and golden blood spilling. Of bright eyes dulled.

“He's been acting disturbed the last few days.” Leon spoke up, his voice quiet in his shame.

Gallup laughed, a harsh and barking sound. “Disturbed. Pyrrhus had gone bloody mad is what happened.”

You refocused on them, white-hot blinding rage bubbling in your chest. You stalked over to them, hands tighten into fists. It wasn’t like you attacked a bound man but you wanted to strangle them for following along with whatever mad idea Pyrrhus came up with. They saw the dark look on your face and flinched back, they knew what you could do to a man.

You heard Madam ordered Alex out, to get something. You lost her words among the buzzing in your ears. You stood in front of Gallup and his brown eyes wouldn’t meet yours for a long moment. Not ready to face his old commander. What a fool. All of them.

“Gallup. Look at me.” You ordered, glad you were able to still sound somewhat human. He swallowed thickly and with a stiff upper lip, he met your eyes like a man marching to his death.

“Each of you is going to tell me everything. “ You snarled, your rage poorly hidden. “You will tell me where Pyrrhus is. Then You will answer Lord and Master Hades for your crimes in his domain.”

The more they told you, your rage and dread only grew.

Pyrrhus had gone off the deep end after the fight, the shamed warriors told you. He had started talking of gods and devouring flames and talks of appeasement and honor as he paced endlessly in front of the fire. He spoke of his birthright. Pyrrhus would grab a girl and look at her face before throwing her away to the other men.

Too Ugly. Too Wrong. He would call all of them that. You thought of Alex and his pale curls and your stomach twisted. You didn’t want to know what Pyrrhus had seen.

“He wouldn’t fuck of them now.” Simon said carelessly. “We would have to wait if he had a girl we wanted but after that fight with you and him, he wouldn’t even grope their tits.”

“Afterwards his thing with the boy, Pyrrhus tried to run out, some of the other men got away but we were…” Leon paused. “Busy. And drunk. Before we knew it, we were chained up here.”

“So you don’t have a fucking clue where he is do you?” You said quietly.

“No, commander Y/N.” The old name slipped, unplanned from what you could tell by Leon’ surprised face but you and everyone else ignored it.

“I do.” Madam spoke up.

“Take me to him.” You ordered.

You had told Hypnos war stories eventually but you never really went into depth about it. You didn’t tell him of the villages. Of the crying women and girls as the men were killed. As they were sold off like cattle.

You didn’t tell him how blood carried a smell once enough was spilled or how human organs looked just like animals’, slimy and useless in the dirt. Of being too aware you were made of meat, tendons and bone under metal but you acted like you weren’t a mortal man killing other mortal men.

Sometimes you thought if you could see into time itself, you would be still there on an everlasting battlefield, bloodied and golden. Immortalized by mud and blood.

You used to wonder if Pyrrhus found whatever it was he was looking for on that battlefield. Some ugly part of you knew he never did, never would and was pleased by it.

Hypnos had told you were a good man once. You weren’t strong enough to tell him he was wrong.

There was a period when you were still new at the house where you and Hypnos weren’t exactly friends but he would say you and him were even cold as you were. You didn’t want to admit he was right.

“Did you like being a commander?” Hypnos asked, chewing on an unused quill as Zagreus ran laps.

You should probably tell not to do that, it would make the quill worthless and unable to write. You didn’t. There were plenty of quills tucked away in your desk and a handful on your person. If Hypnos wished to chew on his writing quill so be it, you more than enough for him. At least this one didn't have ink on it.

“No.” You said flatly. A warning.

You heard Zagreus yelled out the number ten, at least he had learned to keep track this time.

Hypnos frowned and you saw the war behind his eyes, to prod for more or to pull back to let you have your space. His nosiness won in the end. He looked you over and crossed his arms, just like you have yours and straightened his back.

“Why?” Hypnos replied in a deeper voice, trying to imitate your flat tone. Your lips twitched and you fought it down from becoming a full smile.

You told yourself you weren’t amused by his copycat behavior. It was childish and unbecoming of a god. Even if there was something boyishly innocent about Hypnos’ beauty.

Zagrues yelled out the number eleven, his voice still clear. You knew by lap nineteen, Zagreus would be panting for air.

You also knew by the pleased glint in those golden eyes, Hypnos thought he won. So you asked him, “Why do you think I didn't like it?”

Hypnos actually scowled at you for a moment and you smirked which only upset him more. Hypnos scoffed loudly, his shoulders relaxing. Then he seemed to stop and think about it.

“I guess I wouldn’t want to be the boss either.” Hypnos said, tapping a finger on his cheek. “Bad enough when they try to give me more stuff to do on top of all the paperwork.”

This time, it was your turn to scowl. “You do understand that I had to actually think beyond my own life? I had men, real breathing people who didn’t want to die. And I had to make sure they didn’t. If they did, it was on me. This was more than paperwork, for us it was life or death.”

Hypnos was quiet and you thought you had shut him up with your sharp words. You watched Zagreus and heard him yell out number fourteen. You saw black footprints in the dirt, already fading away.

You should be glad you finally shut this little god up, to make him see how spoiled he was. You should be happy but a heavy and familiar weight of guilt settled on your chest. You wanted to apologize even though you did nothing wrong. He should know this wasn’t a game for mortals. Lives were ruined over that damn war.

You felt a warm hand brush on your shoulder which made you look at him. Hypnos’ face was solemn and it looked wrong on the cheerful being. You wanted to wipe it away, to bring out the cheerful smile you were getting used to.

Very quietly, Hypnos said. “It wasn’t on you. You weren’t responsible for starting the war. You weren’t even a prince or anyone with real power.”

You sighed but you could say that it wasn’t that simple, Hypnos spoke up again. You saw his wing flutter nervously before laying flat against his curls as Hypnos bit his lip. You hated that you thought it charming.

“I don’t understand the mortals' fear of death. But I guess that is easy for me to say. I have never experienced it, it is just part of the mortal cycle to me and I know all forms of deaths personally so- I’m rambling. I’m sorry for my careless words. I should have been more thoughtful.” Hypnos said then he gave you a small and hopeful grin.

It looked painfully sweet on him.

There was a lot you could say but you didn’t want to talk about the war or the men you failed. Of the hard calls you had to make while you were still a boy. There was a whole list of stuff you didn’t want to talk about.

“You never experienced it?” You asked.

Hypnos shook his head, blinking his wide golden eyes. You had tried to place where you had seen that shade of gold. You suspected if you allowed yourself to get close enough to, you would find every single shade of gold melted into a harmonious hue.

But you won’t. You can’t.

Zagreus yelled out ‘nineteen’, his breathing heavy.

“Good.” You told Hypnos. You were surprised by how much you meant that. “I’m glad you never have.”

What you didn’t say that you hoped he never will.

There was another wooden door just several more paces down. However this one had a deadbolt on it.

Madam paused in front of the door, her eyes met yours. You kept your body loose and face impassive. You already fucked this up once. You won’t do that to Hypnos, not again. If Pyrrhus had gone mad as they said, being reckless would only put Hypnos in harm's way.

“You look calm but don’t think I don’t see that storm brewing in those eyes, Sir y/n.” She said, her pipe dangling from her red lips.

You tipped your head, not disagreeing with her. “If you are worried for your and your workers’ safety, you have nothing to fear. My only job is to bring him and his followers to Lord Hades.”

She didn’t believe you but she undid the lock and stepped to the side. You gave her a nod and pushed the door opened.

It was pitched black and it took your eyes a moment to adjust. The room was small and bare. You stepped in and with the candle light from the hall, you saw the glint of metal scattered on the ground.

Broken chains.

Pyrrhus was gone.

You took a sharp breath, heart pounding as a sharp and bitter fury overtook you. You whirled around causing Madam to take several steps back, fear on her face for the first time as she stared up at you. You loomed and with teeth bared, you spoke softly. Deadly. More beast than man.

“Where is he?”

#wake me from this dreaming #hypnos x male!reader #fanfic #self insert

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titleleaf · 3 years ago

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top five obscure(ish) fairy tales, top five jeremy irons filmés, top five nasty little men who are gay icons, top five pieces of jewelry you can think of having seen anywhere, top five pieces of 20th century art, top five songs that make you blubber, top five musicals you're embarrassed to admit to liking (TELL US), top five things david 8 does, top five popular tumblr ships that you fucking hate

obscure fairy tales

The Juniper Tree! Not that obscure but a fav.

The Wise Little Girl -- I had a tape with this story as a child and it mainly made eiderdown sound really fucking good

The title story in Lise Lunge-Larsen's The Troll With No Heart In His Body! This book was a big part of my childhood and is truly atmospheric.

The Boy Who Drew Cats -- like a lot of people I first encountered this one via Lafcadio Hearn. I also love Momotarō and anything where people wish for a baby.

The Valiant Little Tailor/Seven At One Blow

I feel like my Tumblr mutuals are probably Donkeyskin people but that too.

top five jeremy irons filmes you are GENUINELY trying to kill me

Reversal Of Fortune (which makes good use of his "what a creep" factor)

Dead Ringers

Damage

The Merchant Of Venice (this was my first Shakespeare adaptation)

Dungeons & Dragons

top five nasty little men who are gay icons

JOEL CAIRO

CORNELIUS HICKEY

HERBERT WEST

BORIS LERMONTOV THEREDSHOES

MEEEEEEEEE

top five fav pieces of jewelry (restricting this to commercially available jewelry and also GOD DAMN TUMBLR ATE MY LIST)

doll hand pendant, Marina Bychkova

Dürer pendant, Moon & Serpent

"Our Darling" bracelet, Martha Rotten

"Lily Dale" lens pendant, Bloodmilk

"Beyond Is All Abyss" ring, Bittersweets NY

top five pieces of 20th century art (restricting this to stuff that's at the MIA, my local art museum, bc goddamn tumblr ate this too)

"Sandy", Walt Kuhn

"Carcass Of Beef", Chaim Soutine

"Strike Breakers (Company Violence)", Morris Topchevsky

"Fringe", Rebecca Belmore

"The Tea Party", Sylvia Fein

top five songs to make u blubber

"Fancy", Bobbie Gentry

"He Stopped Loving Her Today", George Jones (I'M FURIOUS)

"Cold Missouri Waters", James Keelaghan

"Come, Love, Come", Rhiannon Giddens (cw sexual violence, antiblack racism, slavery)

"A Quitter", Rasputina (cw suicide)

five musicals you're embarrassed to admit to liking (you are COMING for me today god damn)

uhhhhh top of the list is OBVIOUSLY Thrill Me: The Leopold And Loeb Musical

followed by Bare: A Pop Opera

followed by uhhhhhh some parts of Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson LOOK I CAN EXPLAIN no i can't this whole show is like a meanspirited parody of Hamilton before that show even came out

followed by Silence! The Musical

followed by Lestat

top five things david 8 does

ride a bicycle

become very invested in a highly problematic film

wear flip flops

have a big old robot dick that [does/does not] work

kill his fucking dad

top five tumblr-popular ships that I hate

NBC Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham, you can keep it now tbh.

Geralt/Jaskier -- I like this fine in the show itself but you know EXACTLY why I'm pissy about it on the internet, lmao.

Anything involving a character played by Bill Hader that isn't Barry Berkman, and even then you are on thin ice

Hades/Persephone, but hating tumblr-style Hades/Persephone is about as popular as the pairing itself.

TSOA-style Achilles/Patroclus (ditto, but I was writing smarmy conflictless backpatty smol achillean bean Achilles/Patroclus before it got big and I'm livid)

bonus round: character x reader of ANY kind, leave me out of it

#more information than you perhaps require #i have no idea how to tag my negativity but i s2g if you like these things you're fine

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kimberly-spirits13 · 4 years ago

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Robin x Child of Aphrodite and Ares reader HC (Request)

;

(Jealous ex on the side too)

Gender Neutral

•Imma have to pick a bone with Z cause she just

•I read the fic series What Have We Done (totally recommend, I died reading it, here’s the writer- @cipheress-to-k-pop ) and it just really made me think (I’ll rant about it later)

•Anyways, you’re the child of Aphrodite and Ares

•Thankfully, you chose to take the kinder side that your mother offered

•You were trained and taken in by all of the Greek Gods

•Even your technical step father Hephaestus

•He really does try and be there for you and gives really great advice

•I love Hephaestus

•#HephaestusProtectionSquad

•Anyways so you come to the squad since Diana recommends it

•You’re really close to her because of Aphrodite and then Ares trained Diana

•Although they did have a good falling out, Ares still respects Diana after the entire reason really did work out in her favor for battle

•So you’re coming down with all of your training and powers

•To clarify you have the natural born powers of, enhanced strength, immortality, flight, speed, healing, charming, mind control (Aphrodite), transfiguration/ shapeshifting (Aphrodite), master strategy, able to conger weapons on command, and hypersensitivity to emotions and energies (Aphrodite)

•You’re a valuable asset to the team and Z knows that

•She also knows that a certain ex of hers has fallen head over heels for you

•She kind of knew that it was her fault since she always had the chance to ask out Robin but never did since she was playing hard to get and then when they finally were dating, he dumped her cause boy has his reasons

•Z was never really that nice to you because of this

•You were kind of annoyed at first but then you just realized that she’d come around and the only time that you really needed to seriously get along was in battle

•So, you and Robin start dating

•He’s always cracking mythology jokes around you and making comments and questions about it

•You guys are dorks together and he’s keen on showing you all of the earthly things that you missed out on while you were living with the gods and Amazons

•You’re just happy that you finally found someone just like your mother said that you would

•You make sure that his suit is enhanced by your step dad and also that your uncles and aunts are watching out for the team for you

•It’s really important to you that none of them are seriously hurt

•Z eventually becomes more and more open to you but that doesn’t mean that she isn’t still jealous

•Eventually though, she does get over it and you become better friends

•You don’t have to be best friends, but you do become better teammates

•It takes a few times in battle that you really prove yourself that she really, really even starts to like you a lot

•You’ve gotten targeted by villains that take powers away but to their surprise you just end up handing them the sorrow of Troy, the rage of Ares, Aphrodite’s love, the happiness of Achilles and Patroclus reunited in death, the feeling of loss at losing those you care about because of immortality, you give them the lust of Zeus, and the heartbreak of Hera

•Haha

•Suckers

•They end up just having to give up then and there cause the emotions are too much for them to handle

•All of these emotions run through your blood because you’ve seen and experienced those things that have happened and you’ve felt the energy of the gods and goddesses surrounding you because of your powers from your mother

•Then Dick realizes this and he pulls you in to talk about it

•You haven’t ranted and cried like this in so long

•Z hears it and then she realized that you could feel her dislike towards you and that you must have known that she felt that way

•She gives you an awkward apology and you’re both better now

•Still she did give you some shit in the start

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exciting · 4 years ago

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As requested, books / series I read in 2020 in the order I read them, with a few brief thoughts. (This took me a hot second because there are a few and also I moved cities) Should I keep a consistent goodreads? Yes I should but I didn’t think of that at the time, so bone apple teeth & sorry if I offend you abt your faves x

P.S. I can’t figure out how to do a read more on mobile so long post ahead!

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J Maas - This is one of the most vivid published fantasy books I have ever read... I read it twice in rapid succession. The fandom POPS off. I must say I have issues with certain aspects e.g. fae lore completely ignored à la Twilight, all love interests 500+ years old and technically a different species, etc (I’m not going to deconstruct the entire series here but just know that I could... Nesta deserves better)

Cruel Prince by Holly Black - This fucking slaps, HB clearly has done her research, the lore is near immaculate, and it explores the Fae in such a unique way, tying it to the modern world subtly and seamlessly. My only qualm was that the books felt quite short; truly wish there had been more content.

Throne of Glass by Sarah J Maas (6/7) - So basically I read this in one single, hyperfixated fit which meant I literally locked myself in my room for three days straight and read all six books back to back in a row from morning to the wee hours. Which is not to say it was spectacular; although it was a VERY rich world, sometimes it was too much... this felt like 6 stories in one. Ik she was young when she wrote this but it is my humble opinion that SJM needs a better editor & I personally think Rowan is a grade A asshole / straight up abusive (& personally think the ACOTAR Tamlin plot was born from that?). It’s good but not as good as ACOTAR. Skip-read the last book.

Grishaverse (Shadow and Bone) by Leigh Bardugo (3) - This is essential to read before SOC but was very much simply a YA fantasy book, although the world was cool and the way the love plot played out was, imo, a subtle middle finger to the fantasy trope. Felt very much aimed at younger readers though? Really liked the sandwhich structure of the Proluge and Epilogue, especially in #2

Six of Crows series by Leigh Bardugo (2) - INCREDIBLE continuation of Grishaverse, better than the original series by a mile. It has the range, the diversity, the representation (the male lead is a disabled asexual and still the most cunning of the entire cast of characters), the plot is phenomenal, and it manages such a well rounded plot in only two books which means nothing is stretched out or squeezed in more than need be. Deserves all the praise it gets.

King of Scars series by Leigh Bardugo (0.5/1) - Personally I don’t consider this book canon, and while it’s nice to see the rest of Nina’s journey & the world again & everyone else, I don't like it. I will, however, be reading book 2 when it comes out, so shame on me, I suppose.

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo (1/1) - this was incredibly cool although it went off in a completely different direction than I thought it would based off the first few chapters? One of my favourite YA-author-debuts-New-Adult novels in 2020 though!

Crescent City by Sarah J Maas (1/1) - This was supposed to be SJM/s New Adult debut, although personally I would put her other series in New Adult, and I can’t say a remarkable amount was different with this except they said “fuck” and “ass” a lot. WHY is the romantic interest 500 years old AGAIN. I just... don’t... I just don’t think it was necessary... the world was cool though, and the last half of the book was riveting, but the beginning was quite slow and I thought the sword thing was predictable. I am interested to see where this goes though.

A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E. Schwab (3) - This world is so fucking cool... four Londons aka parallel universes & the one in ‘our’ world is set in industrial era London. Magic, girls dressing up as boys, thieves, pirates, royalty... it all just slaps. Schwab is an incredible writer & I was completely immersed.

Midnight Sun by SMeyer - I didn’t think anything could possibly detract even further from the Twilight story but I was sorely mistaken... seeing the stalking from Edward’s POV - and it was worse than depicted in Twilight, for the record - completely obliterated any sort of romance the first half of the original book may have portrayed. I still hold the opinion that the entire series would have been better if some kind of vampire lore had been abided by, if only to see all of the villains thwarted by someone dropping a bag of rice on the ground, forcing them to have to count them all.

An ember in the Ash by Sabaa Tahir (3/4) - This was just a very stereotypical ya fantasy series, emphasis on the YOUNG... it wasn’t anything to write home about but I remember quite enjoying it at the time.

The Power by Naomi Alderman - This book is FUCKING incredible and EXCEPTIONALLY thought provoking... essentially women alone develop a power of electric shock etc. and then take over the world from men, and it explores feminism and the balance between equality & tipping the scales in the other direction. Written by a friend of M.Atwood in a similar tone to handmaids tale, I would say? Content warning; there are some exceptionally graphic scenes in the latter half of the novel.

Hamlet by Wllm Shksp - I can’t believe it took me this long to finally read it but Ophelia is my favourite name in the entire world & we love to see a woman go batshit (although she didn’t deserve that).

Catherine House by Elisabeth Thomas - this was unsettling in the best sense of the word... it was a little slow & honestly more of a concept than a big reveal, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it after I finished it? A Secret History vibes but make it blurry like the memory of all those dystopian novels you read when you were young?

The Invisible Life of Addie La Rue by V.E. Schwab - This is without a doubt my book of the year, and probably the best book I read in 2020? I stayed up all night on a friend’s couch reading it, got a book hangover and reread the ending, and then thrust it upon my mother who doesn’t usually read but read this, and loved it just as much. HIGHLY recommend and you HAVE to read it, it’s beautiful and endearing and just plain wonderful.

Captive Prince by C.S. Pacat (3/3) - I went into this knowing it was going to be terrible, because I had received a blow by blow telling me as much; although I must say that it did learn a remarkable amount of new words, the books did get better as the series went on, and it did have a rather charming ending? BIG content warning for almost everything.

Sapiens by Yuval Harari - mind-expanding & must recommend for everyone, there is everything in this and I daresay everyone should posses this kind of knowledge? I listened to it as an audiobook (which I recommend because it’s rather hearty) but will be buying this in hardcopy & rereading it with annotations.

Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller - Without a doubt, one of the most beautiful novels I have ever read, and certainly the most beautiful portrayal of the story of Achilles and the battle of Troy I have ever seen. Patroclus deserved the justice that was given to him in this book; indeed, all of the characters were written with justice and grace. Highly recommend.

Trials of Apollo by Rick Riordan (3/5) - Apollo is my favourite Greek God, and the sexiest greek god, and Rick Riordan’s writing slaps, as always. It did pain me to see Apollo, the sexy immortal, have to be forced back into a 16 year old’s body but everything else? Whimsical & wonderful, as expected.

These Violent Delights by Chloe Gong - a retelling of Romeo and Juliette, except it’s set in Shanghai in the 1920′s, and the protagonists already have a history. Very well done, characters are incredibly diverse in race, sexual orientation, gender, and ability / disability (and honestly, representation has never appeared so effortless and elegant). Also it includes a monster and possible magic. Incredibly underrated and highly recommend.

The Once and Future Witches by Alix. E Harrow - this was such a unique concept, and truly captivating, the story was charming, and felt like the kind of beautiful fairytale you would read as children but with more grit? ABSOLUTELY recommend this one

The Pisces by Melissa Broder - I hated this so much, not my vibe at all. Mermaid smut x therapy but make it cynical and judgemental (I know there was a moral in there but that’s not my point) also the dog dies.

Library of the Unwritten by A.J. Hackwith (1/2) - really interesting & unique concept (all unwritten novels / ideas reside in a special library that is part of Hell and then sometimes the books can come to life) however, my first thought upon reading this was “this reads as if it’s stemmed from one of those writing prompt tumblr posts” bc of the tone and whatever and as it turns out I was somewhat correct, it did stem from a short story (not bad just obvious). It did kind of settle down as it went on but I found reading it kind of a drag, and I don’t think I will read the second one.

Abandon by Meg Cabot - 1. Meg Cabot’s writing always fucking slaps 2. Hades and Persephone but make it modern & very 2000′s & somehow kind of unique 3. I literally loved this, sue me

Medusa Girls (Sweet Venom) by Tera Childs - Like Percy Jackson except they are descendants of Medusa so they are Gorgons and have fangs & venom (hence the title). Gave me very 2000′s vibes? Quite cool but tbh I found the books quite short (like two hours each, if that)? Do NOT read the GoodReads description of the book before you read it, you will spoil it for yourself.

Bring me their Hearts by Sara Wolf - In my opinion, this is one of the most underrated YA series I read in 2020. The heroine is endearing, self aware, witty, and loves to look pretty even while kicking ass which in my opinion is an incredibly underrated trait. Also, immortality without being hundreds of years old? VERY sexy. HIGHLY recommend.

A Deal with the Elf King by Elise Kova - High commendation to be given for the fact that it is a standalone and yet manages to fit in the plot of what would usually be a full fantasy trilogy without cutting corners or being a million miles long? Also sweet storyline & beautiful ending? If you liked ACOTAR you should read this as a “what would have / could have been had SJM had a different editor” (No shade I promise).

The Iron Fae by Julie Kagawa (4/4 + novellas) - Incredibly detailed faerie set around the modern world & our current use of technology & iron in it. Very neat adventure-style series, by the time I read the last novella I was well and truly done with the world (aka provided enough content to be fulfilling). Was definitely aimed at a younger audience though, NO smut / smut was brushed over.

The Modern Faerie Tales by Holly Black (3/3 SS) - This is technically the prequel to Cruel prince, set in the modern world, but with the fae world inside it as it traditional? All I have to say is that it is excellent & I highly recommend it.

Bridgerton series (The Duke and I) by Julia Quinn (9/9) - I read this after watching the Netflix show twice through and I am obsessed, although the books were not quite as elegant as the show, and some parts that made me cringe either by their portrayal (it is very firmly set in the 19th century and thus some things are not handled with tact or grace), the characters were exceptionally loveable and I am so excited to see where the show takes them! Lovely language & an abundance of words I had never seen before (always a plus).

#the number of these which I hate with a passion now #fuck my life #HATE SJM #MAD about grishaverse #ASHAMED of bridgerton and the feminism leeched from my soul after reading this

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tenaciousprincepainter-blog · 7 years ago

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History Graphics & Pictures.

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smallraindrops-blog · 3 years ago

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Wake Me From This Dreaming

(Part eleven)

Word counts: 6.5

Hypnos x male reader, very brief past oc x Y/N, other pairings outside of reader

Warnings: past violent death of a child, Trauma, war, kissing, implied sexual intimacy, no beta.

Notes: First off, I just want to say thank you to everyone who has been waiting for this part. Like no joke, you folks have been amazing and super wonderful and supportive. I just hope this part lives up to expectations.

If you guys haven’t had a chance to, please look at the beautiful fan art by @jun--young. Their Hypnos is perfect (like just look at his curls and those white eyelashes omg) and I adore how their Y/N looks.

Also I want to thank Playlist Anon for creating this wonderful playlist for this fanfic and I recommend checking it out. Like I added all the songs to my music library.

Also @shadow-pancake9 I remembered to tag you! Thank against for the kinds words.

Again folks, this wouldn’t be possible without all of you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

The Masterlist

The bonfire raged against the dark, its flames warm against your skin. You leaned back on the log, tucking your legs close. You were still trying to get used to your longer limbs. You had a growth spurt after turning fifteen in what felt like a matter of days.

Chiron sang low and sweet under the night skies as Achilles played the lyre. Khariklo was due any day now, but she danced and spinned like she was still a young maiden. She tossed her head back in laughter, her hair almost dark as the night itself.

Even as he sang, Chiron kept a careful eye on his wife, ready to step in if needed. The smile he had was familiar, it was the same one you saw your parents a dozen times over.

Patroclus was next to you, a faint smile on his face as his foot tapped along the music. Every now and then Patroclus reach over to brush your hair out of your face, tsking that you needed a haircut.

Normally at this time year, you and your parents would be back home but Chiron had called for aid. None of Khariklo’s sisters could come soon enough and it was too risky to travel alone as a woman.

Khariklo hurried over when she failed to talk Chiron into joining and grabbed Patroclus’ hand and pulled him close to the fire, “Come dance with me, dear Patroclus. My husband is being too much of a worrywart.”

Patroclus protested loudly at first but ended up trying to follow along her graceful dancing and laughing at himself.

You couldn't help but laugh as Khariklo lured Patroclus into a spin. You glanced over to your Father, wondering why he wasn’t laughing. His fingers remained on the lyre, skillfully playing but he looked like he was somewhere else, unable to tear his eyes away Patroclus.

You’ve seen loving looks shared between your parents before, of the sweet words shared. Everyday you had to suffer through your parents’ flirting until you were free to leave, wrinkling your nose at them.

This was different.

It was like Achilles was seeing Patroclus for the first time again, and he had forgotten about the rest of the world.

You looked back at the fire, feeling like you saw something you shouldn’t have.

Almost unwillingly, you thought to the boy you left back at home. Of the first kiss shared. He had pulled you into the kiss when you told him you were leaving town. All you remembered how soft the kiss was even with blood rushing to your head.

‘Something to remember me by.’ He said cheekily, letting you go. You had said some nonsense before running back to your house, blushing and unable to look anyone in the eye.

It had been nice but even then you didn’t want to stay for long. You didn’t know what you wanted.

You sighed, it wasn’t like your parents or what Chiron and Khariklo shared. Or at least you don’t think so. You don’t know what to make of it though and you almost didn’t want to think about it.

There was a reason you avoid people, you didn’t like how messy relationships got. Or the fact you always feel like there was a beat or cue you missed.

Then Patroclus made his way over, smirking and grabbing your hands to pull you up.

“What- Pa, I don’t wanna dance!” You cried as Patroclus spun you around with him. “Go get Father! That's what he is there for.”

“Oh but lad, who will provide the music?” Achilles called with a laugh. Khariklo had sat down next to her husband with her hand resting on her belly, beaming even though she was clearly tired. Even Chiron joined in, changing his song to a more playful one.

You groaned in embarrassment but stayed in step with Patroclus, laughing under the night sky together.

With a wave, Zagreus took his jump and another chance to try to find his mother.

You sighed, rubbing your neck in thought. The prince was getting better but only if he could control his more impulsive nature around Theseus. He had potential, that you didn’t doubt. Only if your father hasn't been so soft on Zagreus…

You frowned when you realized you haven’t heard a word from Hypnos. Normally Hypnos would be right by your side, telling Zagreus not to get bit by a numbskull again.

You turned around to look where Hypnos usually was, only to see him curled up in a ball and sound asleep. His sleep mask was askew, revealing one closed eye, his lashes flushed against his cheeks. His white curls falling into his face and his breathing was slow and even.

“Better wake him up and take with you before he tries to steal something again.” Skelly said as he gave you a look.

You managed not to jump at his voice and nodded, acting like you weren’t just caught staring. “Of course. Thanks for training with us again, Skelly.”

The old bag of bone grunted at you, and waved you off.

You made your way over to Hypnos and with a brief hesitation, you touched his shoulder. Hypnos jerked, his eye blinked quickly and he looked at you in confusion.

“Did I miss the rest of training?” He asked as he pulled his sleep mask up back to his head.

“Yes, you did.” You replied, watching Hypnos yawn then stretched his body, your eyes unwilling following his arms.

Hypnos sighed as he dropped his arms, “At least tell me Zagreus tripped again.”

“Nope.” You said. You grinned at his disappointed huff, “Come on, We should return to work.”

You started walking and Hypnos followed you after a moment. “I was working.” He grumbled.

You glanced over to him, surprised at his cranky tone. You and him were side by side until you got back to the hallway.

“Do you actually need to sleep for your power to work?” Your voice was quiet, not wanting others to over hear you.

“No. I don't actually need to do anything. At least not usually.” He said quietly.

“Oh.” You said, tilting your head. Your curiosity was piqued by the little god. “Is that a good thing?”

His golden eyes met yours, shrugging his shoulders. “Depends on who you are asking.”

Hypnos said nothing else so you let it go. Maybe gods don't like sharing about their domains. It might be like questioning a craftsman and their trade, to do so was a grave insult.

You were about to apologize when he spoke up, "I sleep so I can tend to the dreams but sleep itself is something else. Everything needs it in some form, like air or food or sunlight. Very few living things exist without those needs."

He glanced over to you and you looked back with a nod. Hypnos bit his lip. "Sleep… I am in control of it, I can give and take it away if I so wish."

You studied his thoughtful face, how his golden flickered to the candlelight in the hallway. This was a new side of the cheerful Hypnos and you were fascinated.

"When I was younger and had less control of my powers. I used to have to tend to it as much as I could. At the same time, I tried to help the mortals. But now I just wait for sleep itself to call for me. My magic does the work for me."

“Oh.” You said “Is it like that for other gods or just you?”

Hypnos bit his thumbnail, “My powers and my mom- mother’s work pretty much the same while Thanatos has to be attentive to his duties since it involves more tiny details. Charon’s a mix since his is so closely woven to the river Styx.”

Then his eyes widened and in a hushed voice, “Don’t tell anyone I told you this.”

You blinked, and in the most confused tone you could manage. “Tell anyone what? About you napping during training?”

Hypnos stared at you, unsure then when you smirked, he scoffed at you then laughed. He covered his grin, his eyes scrunched up and you took in the sight. He was lovely like this, soft and pretty. He would have countless suitors lining up his door had he been a mortal.

“Yes, don’t tell anyone about the God of sleep taking a nap.” Hypnos chuckled.

“I suppose.” You said, trying not to grin like a fool.

You were this close to going out and hunting Pyrrhus down yourself.

You could lure him out and you could finish this whole little game once and for all.

But… You couldn’t do that to Hypnos, not when he was still trying to forgive you. Not when you promised to him and yourself you wouldn't.

You almost lost Hypnos once due to your foolish pride and Pyrrhus wasn’t worth losing Hypnos.

Zagreus had spent countless runs trying to find Pyrrhus but it was like he vanished into thin air and it had you on edge. You felt like you left fumbling in the dark in whatever plot Pyrrhus had cooked up.

But just as you couldn’t leave the house to find him, Pyrrhus couldn’t come into the house to fight you.

A slatemate, you thought with a grimace.

"I don't know where he could be hiding. Are you sure you don't want me to put out a call? More eyes might help. I got Meg and Thanatos looking for him as well." Zagreus said, running a hand through his hair. “I really don’t like the fact that I can't find someone in my Father’s domain.”

You shook your head, "No. I rather he doesn't know we're looking for him. The less information he has, the better. He can't hide forever."

Zagreus sighed with a nod, “I guess so. Have you had any luck with finding out what poison he was using?”

“No, I told Pa about it since he might know but whatever it was, it was stronger than what the Satyr used.” You replied, tapping your spear in thought.

You and Zagreus fell into a frustrated silence. You pitched the space between your eyes and nose, then a moment of composing yourself, your hand dropped. You offered Zagreus a smile, “I don’t think I have told you thank you for everything, your highness. So thank you, you didn’t have to do this.”

“Zagreus.” He corrected you mildly. “I want to help you and I don’t like how Pyrrhus thinks he can just attack someone of the house like that.”

Then Zagreus paused, eyeing you. “And I heard from Thanatos how he spoke to Hypnos.”

You couldn’t stop the scowl if you wanted to, your jaw clenched as the way Pyrrhus’ eyes sharpen when he saw Hypnos flashed in your mind.

“How is everything with you and Hypnos anyway?” Zagreus asked, his tone light. As if asking about the weather.

You glanced toward him then away, staring past him to the wall behind him. “Fine.”

Zagreus frowned, “Really?”

You and Hypnos were… it was fine but it wasn’t like before. There was a gap between you and Hypnos. One that needs time and healing because of your actions. And it might be slowly killing you.

You sighed, “No, but we’re working on it.”

Zagreus gave you a pitying look you firmly ignored. “Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe if-“

“No, Zagreus.” You said, “Something like this just takes time.”

Zagreus opened his mouth, then shut it. He nodded, his eyes getting a far away look. “I get it. I do, Meg and I had to work through some stuff before we could start dating again.”

You really didn’t need to know more of Zagreus’ love life but Zagreus continued, needing to speak. “I said and did some things I shouldn’t have. Honestly I acted like a total child .” He said with a tried laugh. “And she felt like I wasn’t stepping up to my duties and wasn't willing to put up with it.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You said, chest twisting. You prayed that it wouldn't be like that between you and Hypnos. The mere idea…

Zagreus gave you a small grin, “It’s fine now, thanks gods. But please, if there is anything I can help you with Hypnos, just let me know.”

You studied his earnest face and nodded, “Thank you.”

Then when he turned to leave, you took a deep breath. It was for Hypnos and your pride was worth nothing compared to him, for a chance that he will give you his cheerful smile.

“Wait. Zagreus.” You spoke up.

Zagreus turned back, his eyebrows going up as he tilted his head. It reminded you of Hypnos and it only steady your resolve.

“Actually, there might be something you could do.”

You still remembered the interplay of the leaves and sunlight, Patroclus’ voice low and smooth as he read the poems out loud. You sat up against the tree, hair ruffled by the breeze as you listened.

Sappho spoke of flames under her flesh and of tenderness of the heart. And you tried to imagine how it felt and of the first kiss you had. There was something, but you didn’t feel like the flame itself.

“Pa, is it true? All of them claim to…” you stopped, unsure how to phase it. Patroclus stopped, waiting for you to find your words. “Do people really feel like that?” You finished quietly.

Patroclus placed the scroll on his lap, his dark eyes thoughtful as he studied your face. You flushed, feeling like he somehow knew what happened and you looked down at the grass. You tugged at a blade until Patroclus spoke.

“Some do, some don’t. And others feel something different.” He said. “You know of the different loves, correct?”

“Yes, Pa.” You said. You broke off the blade of grass and played with it. “I guess I just don’t understand all of them. It’s hard to imagine. Do you feel any of those with Father?”

Patroclus watched you fiddle with the blade of grass. “I do. And you feel ‘storge’ for me and Father just as we do for you.”

An unconditional love for one’s family.

“Yes.” You agreed. “It is just what Sappho speaks of ‘eros’. Is that supposed to feel like that?”

Patroclus sighed, “It can. But not always. Your father… my love for him is different then how Sappho wrote about. I can relate with it because I do feel that for him but I also feel friendship, comfort and familiarity.”

You looked up at him, surprised that he was being so open. Normally Achilles was the one waxing poetics, where Patroclus was the more quiet one.

Sometimes Achilles would play it up, singing praise as he played music, trying to get a laugh out of Patroclus.

You always made a gagging sound and walked away, rolling your eyes.

Patroclus rubbed his beard in thought. “The thing about love is that it is not one single thing but a mix of everything. Sometimes it is passionate, all consuming and other times, it is fondness and quiet moments.”

He smiled at you, lines around his eyes moving with his smile. “It is confusing when you’re young, but give yourself time. Not everything has to be defined right away and sometimes feelings will fade but that doesn’t diminish what you felt, understand?”

You nodded. You felt like you had more questions than answers as your mind swirled.

Patroclus reached over and pushed your hair out of your face, “We love you. No matter what and if you ever want to talk about something, just come to me or your father.”

“Yes, Pa.” You said softly and with that, Patroclus continued the lesson.

You don’t know what pulled you back.

Achilles was limped, broken and gone. Just like Patroclus and you were alone. But even now his screams followed you and you thought how dull- and it looked wrong, so wrong- Patroclus’ eyes were.

Both bloody and broken and there was a big rock in your small hand. And you stared down at it, panting and shaking and then there was a small child’s hand on your foot. You looked down to the boy, just as bloody and broken and his brown eyes dulled and bloodshot.

Blood spilled from his lips as he tried to speak.

And you screamed-

“Boy-o. Hey! Hey!”

Then a hand, sharp and boney, smacked you across the face and you reflexively swung a fist and it landed.

You blinked rapidly and then you were in the training room. You gasped when you saw Skully’ headless body on the ground.

You cursed, running over to check on it. You tried to clear your thoughts, guilt getting you like a wall.

“Hey, over here.” Skelly yelled out. You looked over from across the room and sighed when you saw his head. His body jerked up and started patting the ground, looking for its lost head.

“Help me, lad. Otherwise, it's going to take hours for my body to find me.” Skully ordered and you hurried to obey.

“Skully, I have no excuse. I apologize, I don't know where my head went.” You told him, picking him up. You winced at the new cracks you saw, and it was clear Skelly was barely holding on. “You and me both, boy-o. It’s a good thing you didn’t use your full strength, huh?”

You nodded, and went to place his head back on. “Let me get you some healing stuff. I have-“

“Nah, it's all good. You think you’re the first guy I’ve pulled out of a bad episode? Maybe a break from training would do you some good.” Skelly waved off your concern.

You shook your head, “No, I told Zagreus that I will help him with some stuff before we do some training.”

Skelly eyed you, then his face lightened up. “You know what, just for today, you are banned from my training room."

You opened up your mouth to protest but Skelly pointed at you with a boney finger at you, “Banned. Go see your boy or buy a drink, whatever you need to do to relax and come back tomorrow.”

You sighed, “Fine.” You waited until you were almost out of the room, and muttered. “Old bag of bones.”

“I heard that!” Skelly yelled, shaking a fist at you.

You stood in the hallway, trying to not to think about the memories, their faint calls trying to take you back. You shook your head, running a hand over your armband, feeling the familiar lines of the poppies.

It must be the stress.

And just like a child, you went to seek out comfort.

Hypnos was sleeping when you found him, no line of shading waiting for him. Not for the first time, you were struck by how he really was the personification of sleep. Even in the more harsh lighting of the grand hall, he looked soft and unreal.

You spied Cerberus in the corner, sleeping just as deeply.

Howling and barking and- no. You took a deep breath.

You were going to be selfish again. You reached over and with gentle fingers on his shoulder, you woke him up. His golden eyes blinked at you, hazy and heavy with sleep. He yawned and gave you a warm sleepy grin.

“Hey.” You said quietly, “Apologies for waking you up. I was wondering if you had some free time.”

“For you? Always.” Hypnos said just as quietly and you flushed like you were a teenager again.

“Lounge?” You asked, clearing your throat.

“Your treat?” Hypnos asked, perking up immediately, making you laugh.

“Yes, my treat.” You agreed with a smile, and Hypnos pressed a quick kiss on your cheek, his fingers pressed against your collarbone.

Just even his brief touch set your world back right and strong.

‘Son,

You had unintentionally sent your Pa on a quest. Ever since you told him about how unusual that poison was, he has been seeking out everything he can find about poisons, trying to find it.

You know how he gets when there's something bothering him and he can’t find any information. He was Chiron’s favorite student for a reason, after all. I was far too busy admiring him during class, of course.

A much better use of my time, if you asked me.’

You rolled your eyes, amused. You just hoped he didn’t spend the rest of the letter talking about Patroclus. Once you got a letter from Achilles talking about nothing but how handsome Patroclus was, not even asking how you were doing. Your father still claimed he sent that one by mistake. It had your name on it at the very top.

‘I’ve talked to old friends and I have found out that Pyrrhus had built himself a band of warriors, all willing to obey him no matter what. Why or how I cannot say.

I will let you know when I have new information. I must say, I do regret that this letter is so short and unhelpful.

I hope you and Hypnos are doing better now. He is the only being I know of that can smile even when Master Hades is having a fit.

I trust you’re being good to him. And him to you. I know how easy it is to let pride get in the way, I am the last man to judge anyone about pride.

Learn from my mistakes.

Please be careful. And Let Hypnos know that we are thinking of him- Your Pa is greatly enjoying the codexs - and we are eager to have him come over for dinner when this is all said and done.

Love, your Father and Pa.

Ps. I mean it, my lad. Be careful and use your head.’

You waited until you knew you could get Hypnos away from any busybodies, in one of the many unused hallways with the loukoumades tucked away. Honestly, it felt like a pitiful gift. And you have been trying to think of something else to give him but everything fell short.

Hypnos circled you, almost pressing in and your eyes followed him.

“You got me something.” Hypnos whispered excitedly. And you nodded, “I did. I think these will be familiar.”

You didn’t look at his face as you gave him the gift, afraid of seeing disappointment in his beautiful face again.

“Loukoumades!” Hypnos immediately tore the bag open and popped one into his mouth. Hypnos moaned and you tried not to stare as he licked his fingers. You almost laughed, it was just like before.

Then Hypnos stopped, “Wait, how did you get these?” He looked at you, his eyes guarded and you held up your hands.

“I asked Zagreus to get them when he was out on a run. He was… more than happy to help.” You said with an eye roll. Really Zagreus had been way too thrilled even when Charon gave him a hard time. Hypnos looked back at the treats, then he chuckled softly. “That’s Zagreus for you. Always happy to play Cupid.”

You nodded, just glad that Hypnos wasn’t upset at you.

Hypnos bit his bottom lip, then he looked back at you. You were surprised at the guilt you saw.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just-“ Hypnos tried to say but you stopped him, “No. it’s fine, love. I understand.”

Hypnos frowned, and you tried to give him a smile. “This is just something that will take time, love.”

Hypnos nodded but you got the sense it was more for your sake than his.

A few days later, Hypnos found you guarding the west wing, appearing with a faint hum you had grown familiar with. He had one of the quills tucked behind his ear and a scroll in his hand.

The moment he saw you, he narrowed his golden eyes and pointed a finger at you. “You.”

“Me.” You replied with a nod.

You raised an eyebrow at him, charmed at the pout you saw. Since… everything that happened, you and Hypnos haven’t had one of these talks, the playful back and forward. Everything have been very polite and you have been careful, so careful with him.

“So we got some new scrolls in and I might have been a little nosy.” He said, pulling his quill away from his ear and you chuckled, “A little?”

Hypnos shushed you but he had his familiar grin. “I found some interesting stuff.” He said.

“Oh, did you now?” You said. Hypnos used the quill to point at you but a smile tugged at his lips. This felt so familiar, this little back and forward that you had to bite back your grin.

“I didn’t realize you knew Khariklo.” Hypnos said. “Is that why you and Achilles and even Zagreus at times move differently from other warriors? Even in the different styles you and he have, I noticed you and him took a lot of the same steps almost like dancing.”

You blinked, taking in all of Hypnos’ words. “How did you find out about her? Chiron never used her real name in his writing.”

Chiron had been protective of his wife, wary of other centaurs and gods. While he didn’t hide her away, he used a different name for her in his writing and around non-family members.

“From the writings of their son. He only uses that spelling.” Hypnos bit his thumbnail, his eyes darting toward the scroll. “I didn’t mean to be improper with her name. I should have realized that when you never used her name.”

You shook your head, “It's an old habit. She wouldn’t mind. She would be taken with you I think.”

Khariklo would have adored Hypnos and his cheerfulness. You still remembered how she would waggled a finger at you and Chiron, ‘So serious, the pair of you. Smile or just tell a little joke every now and then, my dears.’

You nodded toward the scroll, “Is that it?” Hypnos immediately gave it to you, “Yes. It was Carystus who wrote this one. He even talked about you.”

You glanced at the title but then looked back at the little god, “And yes, most warriors get comfortable once they were famous enough but my father always pushed himself and when he learned how to use her dancing and spinning with his spear work, he taught me.”

Hypnos gave you a smile. A real one, warm and cheerful. “That’s amazing, no wonder you and Achilles are so skilled.”

You nodded as you glanced back to the scroll, a faint blush on your cheeks. You were unable to handle having him look at you like that.

“Join me for dinner.” Hypnos said and you almost jerked up. You stared at him, not sure if you heard him right. The lounge was one thing, it was a public area. This would be the time you’ve been alone with Hypnos since that day you spent holding him.

“Please?” Hypnos added, “I mean, I do remember you agreeing to give me everything I want forever and ever.”

You laughed weakly, “I remember that talk going a little differently but yes, I will join you.”

Hypnos beamed at you. Golden and beautiful.

And you knew you would give him anything he wanted. Even at the cost of yourself.

Hypnos kneeled in front of the fireplace, poking and muttering at it. "I need to learn a spell for this bloody thing or something.”

You moved over to him, and held your hand out for the fireplace’s poker. Hypnos gave it over, waving a hand at the fireplace.

“This is why I don’t use it.” he floated out of the way, his hand brushing along your shoulder.

You got on your knees and began working on building the fire. Soon a fire was brought to life, crackling softly in the bedchambers.

With the fire lit, it only made Hypnos' bedchambers feel more homey, with bookcases stuffed with scrolls and codes. Even the bed somehow looked more welcoming, dark and lulling with the constellations gleaming softly.

The firelight really did suit him, the warm light soft on his face, making him almost dream like. for a moment, you felt a pang of regret that you will never know how he would look with firelight and moonlight together on him.

His cloak was tossed on one of the many seats and you could see the bare flesh of his arms and shoulders.

You had touched his shoulders and arms before, running your hands down on them, quietly amazed at how soft and smooth he was. So unlike you, scarred and rough from a life of work and fighting.

Your fingers twitched with the need to touch him, to pull him into your lap and to feel him again.

But you held back. You wouldn't do anything until you were back in his grace. So you stood, keeping your eyes on the fireplace and your hands to yourself.

"Thank you." Hypnos said quietly, smiling slightly. You met his golden eyes and you nodded, finding yourself unable to look away. Hypnos held your gaze, and you recalled with unusual clarity of Sappho’s words. And you think you finally understood, to have someone who you so dearly love be so close yet so far away that they might as well be untouchable as the stars.

Then, He bit the bottom corner of his lip, watching you. He floated closer to you, within your reach. You couldn’t help it, you held out your hand, waiting for Hypnos to take it.

Hypnos was the brave one if anyone asked, because he was the one who took your hand and interlaced you and his fingers together.

"I don't-" Hypnos said as the same you spoke, "Hypnos-"

Then a knock came, your head and Hypnos' both jerked toward the door, staring at it.

"O-oh dinner time! Or lunch time, maybe." Hypnos said cheerfully, his cheeks flushing as he glanced back at you. Slowly, regretfully you let his hand- so much more softer and delicate than yours- slip from yours. You watched him go to open the door, thanking the shade for being the food.

With a quiet sigh, you went to get the drinks ready.

The dinner was good, simple. You couldn’t really taste it.

It was at the usual table, low to ground with thick pillows for sitting. You watched Hypnos carefully set up dinner, his white curls falling in his eyes. The sleeping mask stared at you and for a moment, you wondered where Montie was. No doubt the sheep would be reproachful of your very existence once more.

You never knew why Hypnos wanted to be the one to set dinner up for you but it made him happy. Maybe he thought if he was the one to plate it, you wouldn’t turn it away. He was right.

Hypnos chatted aimlessly about his new scrolls and you prodded him along, asking questions.

It was easy to ignore the elephant in the room when Hypnos was bright eyed and waving his hands around as he talked about stars and morals who are trying to find their secrets. The small table between you and him wobbled when Hypnos moved too much but you moved a hand under it and held it steady for him.

Idly, you wondered if you could fix it.

Should be a simple fix. Unlike everything else.

Later, Hypnos grabbed your hand and in a very quiet, shy voice asked, “Will you sleep with me tonight? I don’t mean… you know but I would like to…”

You squeezed his hand, pulling it up to your lip to press a kiss against his knuckles.

“Yes,of course.” You told him softly.

You panted, your hands were shaking as you stared down at the crying boy. You gasped for air, your black eye swollen shut and the crowd was roaring.

Some tossed coins, others tossed rotten food. You couldn’t tell one face from another, all blurring together.

One of the trainers stepped into the ring and grabbed your arm, his jagged nails digging into your flesh and pulled you over to the boy. His eyes were cold and apathetic, like you and the other boy were nothing but fishes for the next meal.

Then he pulled something out of his pocket, a huge rock with dried blood on it. He shoved it to your hand and pointed to the boy.

Kill him

The weight of the rock was heavy in your small hand. You stared down at it with one eye, your other eye blacken and swallowed shut. You could taste blood but you didn’t know it was your or the other boy’s.

You could hear his gasping breaths.

You remembered what they did to the last boy who refused to kill the loser.

Then howling and barking among the booing and cheering crowd.

Then you saw Ares, his eyes burning and his teeth more wolf life than human and looming over them, screaming the loudest and hands on your shoulders made you move your head up and Pyrrhus- or was it Achilles- smiled manically at you, blood and ashes spilling from his laughing mouth- and the boy was no longer- and the rock was warm and wet in your hand-

“-ake up. Y/N. Wake up. Now.” A voice commanded, shattering the nightmare.

You jerked, your eyes staring up blindly and you gasped for air. Then you placed a hand on your face, trying to steady yourself.

Then a hand rested on your head and Hypnos’ voice, low and gentle. “It’s okay, dearest. It’s okay. You were just having a nightmare.”

A nightmare. It was just a nightmare. This was the first time you have been welcomed back in Hypnos’ bed and you had a goddamn nightmare.

You swallowed and let your hand fall off your face. Hypnos was in one of your tunics, too big on him with the sleeping mask gone, pulled off in his haste. It let his white curls spill freely around his face. His golden eyes were wide as he stared at you.

You sat up, trying to get your head together -and for a moment for you heard Achilles screaming, begging for Patroclus to breathe and not to leave him and you stood there useless-

“Y/n, dearest. Look at me.” Hypnos said, cupping your face and making you meet his eyes, bright even in the dim room.

“It’s okay, just listen to my voice, okay?” Hypnos said, his grin shaky. You nodded anyway, your hand reaching over to him and your fingers curled into the tunic.

“You’re in luck. I can basically talk until time itself is bored. I'm going to confess something. You know why I’ve been using the fireplace after never messing with it before?” Hypnos said. And there was a different, dream-like quality to his voice, one that ensnared you in low, calm tones.

You shook your head, your breathing was slowly turned back to normal and were your limbs always this heavy?

“Ever since you told me about spending those nights with your family by a bonfire and under night skies, I wanted to give you something like that. Some place that was cozy and safe with me. And I thought, ‘Oh I got those stars weaved in the canopy, maybe if I just actually just start using that fireplace.’ And -and I just wanted to give you a small part back.” Hypnos said, brushing a hair strand off your forehead.

You stared at him. At the god that had chosen you even after everything. And you thought of the weight of the armband, the poppies immortalized in the gold. Of prayers whispered against flesh.

You remembered what Sappho wrote, of what Patroclus said, of how Achilles looked at Patroclus. You remembered how Chiron sang for Khariklo as she danced and spinned under the stars.

You thought of how he looked asleep in your arms and how you never wanted to give that up.

Your hand reached up to him before you knew what you were doing. Your fingers ran along the curve of his cheek and even now, he blushed at the touch.

“I love you.” You whispered desperately.

Hypnos blinked, his eyes wide and he was silent as he took in your confession.

“I love you. I think I loved you for so long. I-I. I know when.” You said abruptly, the memories rushing back. “Do you remember when you asked me why I never took a drink from the river Lethe? And I told you? And you accept it without mocking me?”

Hypnos nodded, and you realized his hands were trembling. “I do.” Hypnos whispered.

You reached to cover his hands with yours. “I love you, Hypnos, god of sleep and master of my soul. I adore you. I worship your very being,”

Hypnos said nothing but you continued. “I know I’ve not earned your forgiveness and this isn’t make you feel like you have to give it now, I will- no I want to earn it. You are worth waiting for untold centuries, enos. I-i I am rambling like a fool.”

Silence filled the dim room, the dying fire was the only light you had to see Hypnos’ surprise face. And you felt the weight of your words but you didn’t take them back. You couldn’t but more importantly you wouldn’t.

Then Hypnos chuckled wetly, then you realized there were tears in his eyes. “Oh love.” He kissed you, lips brushing gently against yours.

“I miss you.” Hypnos whispered. “I- I felt like you were scared to even look at me sometimes unless I asked you.”

You swallowed, trying to think of what to say. “I- I just want to be careful. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“You won’t.” Hypnos said, pulling away to look up at you. You met those beautiful, golden eyes and you shook your head. “I already did once.”

“Right, once.” Hypnos said quietly, fiercely. “I know you. You’re too careful to let it happen again.”

You stared, you felt like you were seeing him all over again. His face hid nothing from you, you saw the calm acceptance, his determination and…

You wordlessly shook your head.

Hypnos cupped your face, “Dearest, love. My philtatos. I forgive you. I-i was scared before. I didn’t know I could forgive someone so easily. I think I forgave you the moment you knocked on my door.”

You almost couldn’t understand the words. “I- Hypnos.” You said brokenly.

“I love you too.” He said with the most beautiful smile to ever grace his lips and it broke something in you then made you whole again. He kissed you, claiming your mouth for himself. He was gentle, his lips soft against yours and you reached up to tangle your fingers in his soft curls.

“I still haven’t done enough to earn it.” You muttered against his lips, desperate for salvation but unable to reach for it.

“Yes, you have. I forgive you.” Hypnos repiled, granting you the salvation that you wouldn’t give yourself. Then he kissed you again and you were too helpless not to return it. His arms wrapped around your neck and your hands bunched up in his tunic.

When Hypnos pulled you down with him, you went with him. You caged his head between your arms, bodies slotting back in place.

Between tangled limbs, whispered words and slow, burning flames under the stars; you and Hypnos found each other again.

#Wake me from this dreaming #hypnos x male!reader #hades hypnos #hypnos hades #fanfic #hypnos x reader #x reader

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smallraindrops-blog · 3 years ago

Text

Wake me from this dreaming

(Part Nine)

Hypnos x male!reader

Word count: 6.4

Warnings: Violence, temporary reader death, Angst, fighting, arguments, war, child abuse, trauma, Pyrrhus being himself and creeping on Hypnos, no beta.

Note:

Hi. I had two hours of sleep because this fic wouldn’t leave me alone. I am already working on the next part, I just thought this part was already pretty long so yeah. I am legit nervous posting this part.

Please heed the warnings.

Don’t worry, it will work out in the end.

*gently pet the readers*

The Masterlist

Chiron had seemed so much bigger when you were a child.

You stood at the bottom of the mountain under the night sky, even Pyrrhus wouldn’t be able to find where Chiron and his family lived if you didn't lead them up the mountain.

You and Chiron stared at each other, it was another thing you liked about him, there was no need for small talk. But right now, he was looking at you like you were almost a stranger. The last time you saw him, you were a young man, barely fitthteen and not this… mockery of a human in front of him.

“My parents’ ashes are in here.” You said, hoarse. It's been weeks since you last spoke.

You nodded toward the urn in your hands. Chiron’s shoulders slumped and he blinked quickly, “I-i see.”

“I’m sorry.” You said numbly, almost mindless. It was an odd thing to be aware of other people’s emotions when you couldn’t feel anything. There was no anger, no grief, no hate.

You felt like a body with one single purpose, to hide your parents’ ashes from the whole damn world so they will never be apart again.

And Chiron, their and your teacher, was the only one you could count on.

“Achilles’ son doesn’t know I’m here, I made sure of that.” You told him. “I need to hide them, where no one will know. Thetis had made sure they were together in the afterlife, in the end. But Pyrrhus found out.”

Chiron nodded and without you even asking, held his hands out. You hesitated, a small part of you you didn’t want to. You felt almost like a child, not wanting to let go of his parents’ hand. For a moment, you thought you could feel Patroclus’ hand on yours, warm and steady and Achilles’ hand on your shoulder, proud and loving.

But that was a lie. They were dead and gone and you were here.

You handed your parents’ ashes over.

“Come with me, we will be more than happy to give you a meal and a place to rest. My wife still talks about you and that rabbit.” Chiron said with a weak smile.

You should chuckle or smile over that happy, silly memory but you only shook your head.

“No, if Pyrrhus found out where you were, he would spare no one. Not even the children.” You said, stepping away.

Chiron looked down at the urn, his dark eyes unreadable. Then he looked up at you, “I will take care of them.”

“Thank you.” You said softly.

“You are always welcome to come back, do you understand?” Chiron said but from the way he stared at you, he knew it would be the last time he ever saw you.

You gave your first real smile in months, it was small and weak but it felt real. “Yes.”

And with that you turned around and walked away.

You never saw Chiron again.

You don’t remember exactly when you learned the type of quill Hypnos favored. It had been another monotonous day in a house you were learning more about.

You learned you could count on a daily yelling match between Zagreus and his father. That Dusa was everywhere, her feather duster always in hand.

And Hypnos would always lose his quill.

You heard a faint curse from Hypnos and looked away from Zagreus and Skully toward the little god.

“Oh shoot, not again!” Hypnos muttered, patting himself down and checking his pockets.

You bit your tongue before you could make an offer to help Hypnos by patting him down yourself.

“What is it?” You sighed, annoyed at yourself. Because honestly of the problems you thought you would have working at the house, Hypnos was the last thing you could imagine.

“I lost my quill. Again. They are supposed to be easy to keep.” Hypnos slumped, waving a hand toward his scroll. “I need to finish this paperwork before the end of today or tonight or whatever time it is.”

You drugged around your pouch and found a quill, it was one of the simple red ones. You handed it over and Hypnos took it, “Thanks, better than nothing.”

“Can’t you just summon it?” You waved a hand around, like you saw Hypnos done before. He shook his head, making his messy curls fall in front of his eyes.

“No, for that spell to work, I have to know where it is. And I very much don’t.” He blew a breath upward, moving the curl out his face. When the curl fell again, you wanted to reach over and push it back for him.

“Why do you only use those kinds anyway?” You watched his slender fingers curl around the feather.

“One, they are bigger and easier to keep track of.” He saw the smirk on your face. “Oh shush.”

Hypnos read over the paperwork, made one last mark and with a nod, handed the quill back. His fingers brushing against yours, a brief moment of heat.

He sent the scroll off and gave a yawn, “And second, they were supposed to be lucky.”

You hummed, “Not for you, it seems.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Hypnos yawned again. His eyes were heavy-lidded and the smile he gave you was a slow, warm one. You swallowed, tearing your eyes away just in time to see Zagreus knocking Skully down.

Skully’s head rolled over to you, his skull tapped against your spear and you bent down to pick him up.

“Skully, mate. I take it you’re tapping out?” You said when you got him up to eye-level.

“Boy-o knocked me good. Go give him a smack for me.” Skully repiled. You nodded and tossed the head over to Hypnos. Hypnos almost didn’t move in time, making Skully’s head bounce a few times on his palms.

He caught the head with both hands with a loud ‘Ha!’. You bit back a grin as you joined Zagreus on the training ground.

Later after the training, when you were heading back to guard duty, you saw the Quill shade. It was a shade that traveled around the underworld and a talent for making birds like them. They also the sole Quill vendor for the house and you spied several familiar orange feathers poking out their bag.

You almost didn’t say anything, you should just resume your duties. You really should. Slender fingers and a warm, lazy smile flashed in your mind.

You turned on your heel and called out the shade.

You were just doing a favor for a friend.

You made your way over to your parents with a bag heavy with several codexes for Patroclus from Hypnos.

You weren’t how you felt about this new development, it felt odd to have two parts of your life merge together. It hasn't been on purpose, you just never thought about it before it happened.

You thought about how nervous but happy Hypnos was as he gave you the codexes, how even in the weekly letters your parents were requesting Hypnos over for dinner at some point. At least your family was more than happy to welcome Hypnos with open arms. Hypnos could use the joy, given how most of his family responded.

An arrow shot into the ground in front of your feet, and you snapped your head in the direction it came from.

On top of a small cliff, you saw a flash of red hair before ducking out of your sight. You tighten your hold on your bag with a sharp breath.

Of fucking course.

You stepped on the arrow, breaking it under your foot. You weren’t in the mood to play Pyrrhus’ sick little games.

"Coward! I know it's you Pyrrhus!" You called out.

You stood, waiting for him to reappear. You almost went up there yourself but something in your gut told you were alone again. For now.

You walked on, keeping an eye out for Pyrrhus. Nothing else happened on your way to your parents until you saw them both standing outside. Achilles looked furious and Patroclus was muttering something to him, a hand on Achilles’ chest.

“Father, Pa.” You greeted them carefully. When you got close enough, you saw the same arrow in the ground.

Achilles yanked the arrow out of the ground, studying it. He didn’t even bother to acknowledge your presence. You saw the tremble of rage in his hand. Achilles had become a calmer man since his death, unless something threatened Patroclus or you.

“Y/n.” Patroclus said, waving you over closer. “Achilles, our son is here.”

“I think I might know who did this.” You said. Achilles looked away from the arrow toward you, his blue eyes hard and cold.

“I had a minor run in with Pyrrhus, he shot an arrow at me but missed. On purpose I think.” You’ve seen his aim before and knew he wouldn’t miss that easily.

Patroclus sighed as Achilles snapped the arrow in half. “I told him not to go near any of us again unless he wanted his neck snapped.” Achilles snarled.

“I think it would be best for us to go inside and figure out how we want to deal with this.” You said as Achilles began to pace.

“I know how to deal with this, hunt him down and break his neck like I said I would.” Achilles said but one hard look from Patroclus seemed to quiet him down for now.

“Y/N is right. Let go inside, beloved.” Patroclus gave him and you a gentle push toward the house and Achilles went with a grumble. You gave one last scan of the area before stepping in.

You were sorely tempted to drop the bag off and go looking for Pyrrhus yourself. But normally, Pyrrhus was bold in his attacks, something was off about this and it set it your teeth on edge.

Judging from the looks on your parents' face, they felt the same.

Hypnos was busy, trying to smooth two arguing shades in line when you got back.

You were getting familiar enough with his face that you could see a headache forming. Even with the frustration on his face, he was still beautiful. He rolled his eyes and you wanted to kiss him for just existing.

“Hey, come on now. I-i, yes I understand why you both would be upset. Hmmm. But- yes.” Hypnos’ cheerful voice was starting to turn sour.

You walked over, and your mere presence was enough to quiet down the shades. You didn’t bother to look their way even as some pointed and muttered softly to themselves.

“Hypnos, your presence has been requested.” You said in a formal voice that you normally only used for Lord Hades. Hypnos blinked in surprise with a frown, not moving. You raised an eyebrow and he caught on.

“Oh dear, again?” He made a show of rolling his scroll and tucking away his quill. He gave the shades an apologetic smile. “It will be a little bit, so just sit tight.”

You turned and started walking toward the east wing, very carefully not looking at Hypnos. You turned into one of the many empty hallways and once you were sure alone, you turned around with a grin.

Hypnos cupped your face and pressed a kiss against your cheek with a loud smacking sound. “My hero.” He said with a laugh, pressing a softer, quieter kiss on your lips. A greeting and an affirmation of being home in a single kiss.

You really did enjoy returning home to him. You gave him another lingering kiss, the tension leaving your body for the first time all day.

“Pa enjoyed the gift.” You whispered, placing a hand on his lower back to keep him close. His hands dropped to your shoulders, his thumb brushing against your collarbone.

“Oh good.” Hypnos tilted his head, golden eyes watching you carefully. “Something wrong?”

You frowned, “What? No-“ you stopped at the frown Hypnos gave you. The worried one that always made your gut twist in guilt. You sighed, honestly it was probably better Hypnos knew. Even you rather not have him be worried.

“It’s Pyrrhus.” You whispered. “I don’t know exactly what he is trying to do but he is harassing us again.”

Hypnos bit his bottom lip, “Well, he is no match for you or for your parents I'm sure. But maybe we can have them stay here? We could make room for them in the house.”

You shook your head, “They won’t accept the offer, my father especially.” You brushed the curl out his face, “They are skilled warriors even if Pyrrhus is a nasty piece of work.”

“Alright, are you okay?” Hypnos whispered, cupping your cheek. You reached up and covered his hand with yours. You turned into his palm, pressing a kiss against it.

“Yes, love.” You whispered and gave him a grin, “I always am.”

A few weeks later you got two letters.

‘Dear Y/N,

The past week had been uneventful, even if uncomfortable. Your father had taken standing guard over me while running errands, and even when I am simply outside reading. Ridiculous.’

You chuckled, you could hear the fondness in Patroclus’ writing. It was too easy to imagine his faint smile at Achilles, that quiet but resolute love he always had for your father.

You shook your head and continued reading.

‘I trust that you will let us know if anything has happened on your side. I know you are grown and gotten used to taking care of matters on your own, but please, come to us if Pyrrhus tries anything.

Be a good lad.

Your Pa and your Father.

PS. Tell Hypnos we said hello, and thank you again for the codex’s.’

You closed the letter slowly.

You weren’t going to cause your parents anymore stress, they had more than their fair share. You placed the letters with the rest in the desk drawer, next to the bottle of nectar Hypnos gifted you. You caressed the bow for a moment, and you really should bring that with you the next time you visit Hypnos.

You close the drawer and after a moment, you open the other letter you received.

‘Enough is enough.

You disgraced my father, my legacy and everything I stood for.

I will get mine. And you will be left with nothing.’

You held it over the candle, watching it burn.

You dealt with him when you were on your own, and you can do it again.

You managed to return mostly to your old self, memories no longer swallow you whole like they used to. You found someone better than you ever imagined. Your parents had finally found rest with each other.

You will be damned before you let him take it.

“Shouldn’t you be at home with your wife?” You stared down at Odysseus, much more grayer than the last time you saw him.

His mouth formed a tired smile, “Believe me, Y/N. I have been trying to get back to her.”

The bookkeeper finished counting your winnings and handed it over. You tucked it away, “Well, I can promise you won’t find her here.” You waved a hand around to the dark, damp rundown building that had now become the newest illegal fighting arena.

You could hear the sound of the next fight starting, and the whooping and yelling of a blood thirsty crowd.

“I came here to find you. I heard of a talented fighter who was able to take his rivals out with a single blow.” Odysseus nodded toward you, “And thought to myself, that sounded a little familiar.”

You shook your head and stepped away, “Whatever scheme you’re planning, I want no part of it. I've seen what happens to your chess pieces.” You walked up the steps, away from the fighting ring. You didn’t plan to stick around, not when sleep was already calling your name.

Odysseus chuckled, but he didn’t sound that amused. “I know, you care not for glory, not after what happened to your parents. So I came with something else.” He followed you out to the damp alleyway, filled with trash.

"Didn't you hear me?" You sighed, "Not. Interested."

"Are you sure about that?" Something about his tone made you face him. You waited, cursing yourself for listening to this known puppet master.

“Pyrrhus has increased the amount on your head." Odysseus said.

"Oh?" You scoffed, “Are you here to claim my head for yourself?”

He wouldn't be the first to try nor the last. He was older and he never was a strong fighter, it would be an easy kill.

“No, lad. I want to do one last favor for your parents. And for you.” He said, sounded like the old man he was.

“Why?” You glared at him, trying to find the lie.

“It wasn’t right how he had taken your rightful inheritance. Under Greek law, you were just as much as Achilles’ son he was.” Odysseus paused, “In truth, I always thought you more of Patroclus’ child, and in some ways I was right. Yet I can see the best of Achilles in you.”

You said nothing, waiting for him to finish.

Odysseus pulled out a small bag, and tossed it at you. You caught it easily, the rattling of coins was familiar to your ears.

“I heard there is a boat leaving tomorrow morning for a small fishing town named Abalia, just past the coast of Daorsi. Well out of his reach. It would be easy even for a well- known man to disappear in a nowhere town like that.” Odysseus said, “Maybe even get some cheap land, find a wife or a companion, and get some rest.”

You stared at the bag, a part of you wanted to throw the bag back in his face yet another part of you wanted that little fantasy Odysseus was trying to sell. Not even the companion or land but the idea of just being able to live in peace after years being on the run and fighting sounded… good.

And you were just so tired.

“How do I know this isn’t a trap?” You looked back up at him. Odysseus shrugged, “I wish I had a surefire way to make you trust me but I don’t. I know you don’t think so, but I do like to think of myself as a fair man and this is a wrong I can help righten.”

You glanced down at the bag, at the promise of peace. You tucked it in your cloak and Odysseus let out a breath, looking a little lighter and a little less older.

“Thank you.” You told him, turning away.

Then you stopped, turned back to him. “I mean it, go home to your wife. There is nothing to gain with these fools.”

Odysseus nodded, his face worn out. “You might be right about that. Safe travels.”

“Likewise.” You replied.

The next morning, at the first ray of sunlight, you went to the docks.

You knew Pyrrhus was somewhere waiting for you. It have become a well known fact that you and Zagreus often meet in the colosseum.

You looked down at your arm, wishing you didn’t have to leave the keepsake by his bedside. But you couldn’t risk Pyrrhus knowing about Hypnos and the poppies symbol would be a dead giveaway.

You thought back to Hypnos, asleep and safe at the house. He had looked soft and warm in his bed, his limbs sprawled out and his curls sweetly mussed and you almost didn’t have the willpower to leave.

You hear Theseus laughed loudly at his own joke. You rolled your eyes as you got closer. You didn’t miss the colosseum, or the roaring crowd but you especially didn’t miss having to deal with Theseus.

For some reason, someone let him have a chaise in the waiting room of the colosseum. He glanced over when he heard your footsteps, mouth full of grapes.

“Oh so the great son of Achilles and Patroclus has returned!” Theseus said muffed. He waved off the shade feeding him grapes, and with a dramatic flourish summoned another shade with his shined spear and shield.

You rolled your eyes and with the driest voice you could, you replied. “Hello Theseus.” You learned a long time ago that if you didn’t at least acknowledge him, he would just keep talking.

Theseus hummed as he grabbed his stuff. “Tell me Y/N. Are you actually planning on fighting the hell spawn like the so-called warrior you are or just let him walk on by?”

You scoffed, “Big words coming from someone who never best me in battle.”

Theseus glared at you, “Oh don’t think we haven’t heard, Y/N. We all know how your father got you that guarding job, you truly think you’re worthy of such a position?”

You approached Theseus, making him take a step back. When you smirked, he realized his mistake and his hand curled tighter on his spear. ‘Just try it, I dare you.’ You thought.

“Want to say that again?” You said quietly. You and Theseus glared at each other for a long moment, silently daring the other to make the first move.

Then a shade popped in, eyes on their scroll. "Theseus, you are up first. Asterius is already waiting for you, and Y/N will be the follow up."

Without waiting for a response, the shade left. You scoffed and walked out, “Have fun getting your ass kicked again.”

You heard Theseus start to respond but the crowd noise drowned him out. You walked up to one of the viewing windows, solely for the warriors.

Zagreus ran into the arena and from your spot, you can see the beaming grin on his face. He spotted you and waved at you. You returned the wave much more calmly.

You studied the crowd, trying to find any hint of Pyrrhus. When you didn’t find any, you wondered if maybe you were just being too paranoid. But no, Pyrrhus was a snake in the grass, even now.

The fight went in Zagreus’ favor even with some close calls from Asterius. You were about to step away from the window when you felt a sharp bust of heat in your shoulder.

You ducked with a curse, holding on to your shoulder. You saw the familiar fletching of the arrow, the same one that you stepped on, the same one that Achilles broke in his hand.

You snarled and yanked out it, the arrow thankfully whole. You checked the wound, it wasn’t too deep even if it did burn.

“Y/N!” Zagreus called out and you looked up, how did he get here so fast?

You stood up, staying well away from the window. Only to crumble immediately back to the ground, you squeezed your eyes against the dizzying wave of nauseousness.

Poison.

He poisoned you.

Coward.

Zagreus placed his hands on your shoulders, you heard him call for help. You shook your head, there would be no one coming. The colosseum always had a rule, no help for the warriors. If they die, they die.

For a single moment, you allowed yourself to think of Hypnos, and silently apologized to him. You just hoped he wasn't working when your name appears on his list.

"Help me stand." You ordered, holding to your spear. Zagreus did, his arm around your waist.

"Did you see where it came from?" You braced yourself with Zagreus' help and your spear. You could stand even as your body tried to collapse.

"No, I didn't. Do you know-" an arrow flew past Zagreus' face, nearly missing him. He yelped and he grabbed his sword.

Pyrrhus stepped out of the shadows with a grin. And it really was like looking at a ghost of Achilles, only his flaming red hair differs him.

"Your highness, please forgive me." Pyrrhus said smoothly, tapping his spear on the ground. From behind him, two shades stepped both with their bow and arrows at ready.

"I didn't mean for the prince himself to get involved in the… family drama." Pyrrhus said with a chuckle. "If you don't mind, I would like a word with Y/N alone."

You stepped forward, your rage pushing you past the pain. Zagreus copied you, and scoffed, "You got another thing coming If you think I am leaving Y/N with you."

Pyrrhus' smile dropped and his true face revealed itself. An unnatural coldness took over his face, his eyes sharp like a predator. Zagreus shifted next to you, you could tell how unnerving it was to him.

You have gotten used to it.

"What is it now, Pyrrhus? There is nothing to be gained here." You said.

"Wrong. There is." Pyrrhus said.

Then he charged and you met him halfway, spears clashing and he pushed you back but you returned the shove.

You and him circled each other, eyes never leaving and even if you could feel the poison working its way through you, you were able to keep Pyrrhus on his toes.

Then you and him clashed again but you got several hits in before breaking off again.

Zagreus was making quick work of the two shades and it only took moments before they shattered into light.

Zagreus turned back to you and Pyrrhus, quickly coming over to give his aid. Before he could though, more shades appeared blocking his way.

For every hit Pyrrhus got in, you got two more. His anger was getting worse by the minute, his face quickly becoming redder.

it wouldn't be much longer now.

Pyrrhus snarled, "Worthless. You are worthless."

You didn't respond back.

You and him clashed again and you were to knock him down with a well placed kick to his gut. You pointed your spear to his throat before he could move back up. You were panting and even as you tried not to, your whole body shook. Poison felt like it had lit every nerve on fire.

Pyrrhus panted as well, his blue eyes glaring at you. Then a slow grin formed on his face.

"You know there is a little rumor going around about you." He said.

You pushed the tip of the spear into his flesh. "Oh?"

Pyrrhus laughed, manic. "You and a certain god of sleep.”

You froze, hands tight on your spear. How did he know?

Pyrrhus laughed, “You know, I have heard he is quite pretty actually. Maybe I should pay him a visit myself since it seems he will spread his legs for anyone."

Something in you snapped.

A burning anger you haven't felt in a long time. You had been taught to keep your head, not to let anger control you and you were good at it. It was the one thing you had over your father but at the thought of Pyrrhus even looking at Hypnos, let alone touching him, enraged you.

You slammed the spear, pushing past bone and flesh and tendons to the outside of the back of his neck and cutting off his laugh. You quickly yanked the spear out and tossed it before pinning Pyrrhus down and slammed your fists into his face. Light cracked into his flesh and you kept going.

You didn't hear the arrows shot from behind you, too deep in your rage. A couple wedged into your back and one into the back of your neck.

You saw the light crack and break your flesh and Pyrrhus grinned like a mad man.

You grabbed your backup weapon, a dragger, and pushed it under his jaw into his skull, causing his eyes to roll back.

Light broke past Pyrrhus' skin and it would be only moments before the light claimed him.

Unable to hold up your body anymore, you tipped and hit the ground. Light raced over your flesh, claiming you first.

You thought you heard Zagreus for a moment. Your name. He was saying your name.

You would have rather heard Hypnos' voice last, you thought.

And you were no more.

"Do you remember anything when you are in the river?" Hypnos asked Zagreus. The lounge had been empty except for you, Hypnos and Zagreus.

Zagreus shook his head then paused, "Well, kinda?"

Zagreus took a sip of his drink, "It's really weird. You don't know anything, it's like you exist but you don't have any of your senses but you can still think or remember stuff."

"Huh. So it's like dreaming but not." Hypnos said, his golden eyes darted to you before he looked back at Zagreus.

"Yeah, kinda like that." Zagreus repiled.

For a moment you were a child, covered in dirt and fleas and there were adults screaming and waving money. You were shoved toward another boy and the crowd roared.

Then you were clean and fed and loved.

Patroclus' voice was low and warm, as he helped you sound out unfamiliar words. Every vowel was like a new sensation.

Achilles was golden in the early morning sun as he guided the spear in your hands, his hands were big and rough but gentle in his movement.

Then You were older and covered in blood even with the armor, and you somehow walked away from the battle when so many others didn't.

You remembered everything.

Then.

You survived but your parents didn't.

And you were alone again.

Hypnos laid on his stomach in his bed, his back was bare and you wanted to reach out to trace his spine. One of his many blankets was pooled around his hips but he left one of his feet uncovered to kick back and forward in the air. His cheek rested on his palm, his golden eyes on his newest codex.

You wondered if he knew that there were sculptors who would give up their fist born for a chance to recreate his form.

As if hearing your thoughts, he looked over to you and he smiled. "You're staring at me."

You hummed in agreement, taking his speaking as permission to come closer. You placed an arm next to his side and kissed his lower back.

He laughed and squirmed as you pressed another kiss against his back, a little higher. Your other hand found his hip and gave a gentle squeeze.

He closed his codex, pushing it away "I was trying to educate myself you know?"

"I can educate you." You replied and Hypnos laughed at the bad line. You worked your way to his neck, pressing kisses against his smooth skin, quietly enjoying the soft sounds Hypnos made.

Hypnos turned on his back and pulled you down and caught you a kiss. A slow one, lips sliding against each other.

He broke the kiss, eyes heavy-lidded and his smile warm. "Hey."

"Hey." You whispered and you kissed him again and again and again.

And you wished you could stay in this moment forever.

A large hand caught your face, long nails digging into your skin. Then dragged you partially out, and you hissed at the sense of pain, the first real thing you felt. You tried to breathe; but as much as you tried, you couldn't.

A woman, looming and slender, tilted your face up to get a better look and she hummed.

She was overrun with blood, so much you couldn't tell what her skin looked like. Her long hair was damp and stringy but her eyes were almost as bright gold as Hypnos.

You stared, your heart breaking and you wanted to weep.

Styx, goodness of the river and oaths, matched your stare.

"Another shade, another mortal." She said, blood spilling her mouth. Then she saw something in your face and she gasped and jerked your face closer.

"Ooh. I see. I see." She smiled, her teeth gleamed white even with blood.

"Hypnos' philtatos. His dearest." The woman sighed, almost sadly.

"Looks like I won't be keeping you." And with that she shoved you back into the river and into darkness.

"Come home soon." Hypnos whispered as you got ready to leave.

You leaned down, pressing your forehead against his and you looked into those beautiful, golden eyes.

"I will." You promised.

You pushed through the blood and spat it out, taking your first real breath.

And fuck, how does Zagreus do this all the time?

You rubbed the blood off your face as you found your footing. You heard a small noise and looked up.

Hypnos floated in the steps, his face pale and his eyes wide.

Guilt and relief twisted inside of you. You had to look away for a moment, not able to handle the emotions.

The river had numbed you to almost everything.

You made it onto the steps, still dipping blood and stood in front of Hypnos.

"What happened?" He whispered.

You swallowed, trying to think what to say.

"Hypnos…" you started when you heard another noise from behind you. You turned around and saw Pyrrhus pull himself out.

Without even thinking about it, you pulled Hypnos behind you, blocking him from Pyrrhus.

Pyrrhus shook the blood off and glared at you. Even he knew better than to try to fight you while in the house of Hades.

Hypnos moved around you, you tried to grab him to pull back but he ducked away in time. With a fake chipper voice that you only heard used on others before, Hypnos spoke. "Hello and welcome to the House of Hades."

He looked down at his list, "Alrighty I got both of you signed in. If there is anything you need, you are welcome to speak to Lord Hades. Otherwise you are free to leave." At the last word,Hypnos directed his eyes toward Pyrrhus and his smile dropped."Which I strongly advise doing so."

Pyrrhus said nothing, his eyes darted between you and Hypnos. His eyes lingered on Hypnos longer than you liked so you stepped in front of Hypnos, blocking him Pyrrhus.

Pyrrhus scoffed and got right up in your face. "I won that last match. You died first. Maybe I should tell Lord Hades that his guard got caught unaware. Doesn't look good for you or him."

"Yet I still took you out even with all those hand outs you've been given. I would take the suggestion given to you and leave." You said, wishing you could drag him back to the Styx and drown him.

Pyrrhus scowled and leaned over to look at Hypnos. He flashed a smile. "No wonder you caught his eye, you really are a pretty thing."

You moved in his direction, once again blocking Hypnos. "Out. Now." You said through gritted teeth.

Pyrrhus held up his hands and with one finally look back, he was gone from the house.

“Who talks to gods like that?” Hypnos gave a weak laugh.

You turned back to Hypnos and his face was unreadable to you. He glanced back at you and his shoulders slump. He looked back at his list.

“Go get clean up, I will find you later.” Hypnos said softly.

Before you could say anything, he vanished.

You wiped off the blood from your face and uniform and you swore you could still feel her nails in your face. You dropped the towel on your chair and glanced around the room.

Then you saw something on your bed, with a frown you walked over.

The armband.

The grooves of poppies were familiar and worn. You picked it up, It was heavy like always and the aura of magic around it hummed.

You had left it in Hypnos’ room, so how did it get here?

You sat on the bed, chin in your palm as you studied it.

He had been acting off but you weren’t exactly yourself either. Honestly you felt like a child or a fool but you had hoped that you could see Hypnos longer than a moment. Just even holding him for a moment would set you right.

A soft sound, the last fading hum of a lullaby and you looked up. Hypnos looked furious even with his eyes, shiny with unshed tears.

“Oh you found it.” Hypnos crossed his arms, his mouth twisted in that frown.

Without looking away, you snapped the armband back on. “Is this what you’re upset about?”

Hypnos shook his head “You left it! It could have helped you, I could have helped you. But noooo.”

He floated forward and back, if he was walking, he would be pacing. “No, you just went off and left it! Unbelievable.”

“I honestly just forgot it. It wouldn’t have helped, love. He used poison before the battle even started.” You said, standing up.

“No, you didn’t.” Hypnos said, his tone icy, “You wouldn’t forget something so useful.”

You looked away, cursing yourself for getting caught in a lie.

“Don’t tell me I can't help you. You could have still used it and went to get a cure or something. It would have brought you time. Zagreus told me he was there. You could have him help you but no, you just have to fight Pyrrhus.” Hypnos shook his head, waving a hand.

“It wouldn’t have helped.” You repeated sharply. “You weren’t there. Zagreus couldn’t help me. You couldn’t help me.”

Hypnos flinched and for a second, you wished you could take back your words.

“I had it handled.” You told him, trying to keep your voice gentle.

Hypnos stopped his moment, he was halfway across the room and out of your reach. “Oh yeah, dying is a real smart way of handling that.”

You chuckled, rubbing a hand on your face. “Are you even listening to yourself right now?”

Hypnos said nothing, his eyes watching you.

“I died. So what? Others do it all the time, hell you even have a list of their names and you greet them with a smile. I don’t understand why you don’t when it’s me.“ you said. There was something sharp and ugly growing in you, wanting to drive the point home.

“Because I care about you, you ass!” Hypnos snapped. “Because you are different, I can’t brush it off like I can with others.”

He vanished then reappeared in front of you at eye level. “I thought you finally accepted that you need help sometimes. That you count on me, on others. You told me that I helped you with other stuff, why not with this?”

You met his glare, “I’m fine, Hypnos. I didn’t need your help.” You grounded out.

“Fine, then you can go off and handle whatever you want without thinking how worried and scared you make me.” Hypnos said, sounding close to tears.

“Fine, I will!” You snapped.

“Fine!” And with that, Hypnos vanished and didn’t reappear.

You took a deep breath, the silence ringing in your ears.

“Fine.” You whispered in an empty room.

#Hypnos x male!reader #wake me from this dreaming #Fanfic #hades hypnos #hypnos hades

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smallraindrops-blog · 3 years ago

Note

While I reading the newest part of the modern! Son au, around the beginning where it’s talking about the photos, it made me start thinking about Achilles trying to take care of Y/N when he was a baby and fully having no clue what he was doing or supposed to do. Honestly one of the funniest thoughts of the year so far.

We belong to the days

Achilles x Patroclus, Hypnos x male!reader (Wake Me From This Dreaming) at the end.

Word count: 1.8

Warnings: kissing, family drama, jealousy, no beta

Note:

Hey, anon. I know this wasn’t a request but I couldn’t help but write something about it especially since I have been wanting to for a while but wasn’t sure what to write.

I kinda headcanon that Achilles would be one of those dad's who tries his best but doesn't do too great at the day to day stuff but he is always there for his kids and will do his damndest to give them a good life.

Think Hal from Malcolm in the middle which is hilarious.

I didn’t really hit the funny stuff in this but I hope you and anyone who reads this enjoy it.

Lastly, I wrote this differently due to Y/N literally being a baby and thought this style flowed much better.

(Achilles’ pov)

What Achilles remembered the most the day they brought their son home, was him white knuckling the steering wheel and listening to Patroclus muttering smoothing words to their son from the backseat.

Oh gods, they have a child now. A small baby boy. Only four days old.

Achilles almost slammed on the horn in a rage when some jackass didn’t use their blinker and switched lanes, almost hitting them. But he stopped himself in time, their son had been quiet for most of the ride and he didn’t want to scare his son.

A son. A small helpless thing that needed him.

Achilles might throw up when he gets his family home safe and sound.

Was there always this many bad drivers?

“It’s okay, Achilles.” Patroclus said quietly. “Just two more miles.” Achilles let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

He wished he could turn around to look at his husband, to look at those beautiful dark eyes and the warm smile he had since the nurse placed their son in his arms.

But he couldn’t risk taking his eyes off the road. Because if anything happened to Patroclus or his son, Achilles would burn the whole damn world down along himself.

“Two more miles.” Achilles agreed, sounding calmer than he was.

It wasn’t like Achilles didn’t prepare, he did.

There were books and parenting classes. Whenever he had time between games and traveling, he read every chapter carefully, highlighting the parts he thought were important.

It didn’t help that he was an only child, never even babysat or played with much younger children unlike Patroclus who was raised in a foster home.

He never knew how to talk to children or what they even liked. His childhood had been ruled by his parents and they had his whole life planned out. Which didn’t include wasting time with other people who didn’t push their social status higher.

But there was nothing that could prepare him for the actual child Patroclus placed in his arms. Every time felt like the first time overall again.

“Remember to support his head.” Patroclus said, helping Achilles adjust his arms. The baby made a small displease sound and Achilles froze in place, worried he would break the fragile being.

“Relax.” Patroclus said, running a finger on their child’s cubby cheek. Achilles made his body obey, letting out a breath. A few moments later, their son did the same, settling down in his arms with a small gurgling sound.

Achilles couldn’t help the foolish grin on his face. “Look at him, beloved. So small.”

Patroclus chuckled, his smile warm and perfect and Achilles fell in love with him all over again. “He is.” Patroclus whispered.

They stared down at their son, who dozed off, unconcerned about the outside world.

“Such a good lad.” Achiles told his son proudly, “Such a good lad.”

The baby wouldn’t stop screaming.

Achilles paced back and forward, trying to find something that fixed this. Patroclus was out of the house, buying groceries and Achilles had told him to take his time.

It was partly to give Patroclus a break but it was also because of Achilles’ pride. He wanted to prove to his husband that he could handle their son for a few hours.

He didn’t want to be one of those guys who joked about having to babysit their own children or like his own father who ignored him until Achilles could do something for him.

He would not repeat his father’s mistakes.

However, none of this would smooth his son. He turned to look at the clock and realized the baby hadn't been fed in the last few hours.

“Milk, of course.” Achilles nearly smacked himself, “I’m sorry, little one.”

Achilles hurried down to the kitchen and with an apology, placed his son down on the floor on top of a blanket. His son only screamed louder.

Achilles hurried to make the milk, carefully reading the instructions even if he wanted to rush.

“Just a few more minutes, then you will get your second breakfast. And thank god you won’t remember what dumbass your father was.” Achiles told his son with a false cheerfulness as he picked him back up as he waited for the water to boil.

“Don’t tell your other father I said that word.” Achilles said, trying to keep his tone cheerful.

His son whimpered loudly as he readied himself for another crying fit. He tried to think of what else to say then blunted out, “Babe Ruth has a record of 714 home runs!”

His son whimpered but didn’t scream so Achilles continued. “But a man named Hank Aaron was the first to break Babe’s record with a total of 755 runs then Berry Bonds broke it with 762.”

The water was boiling and Achilles hurried to make the bottle, his son only whimpering a little as he kept talking. “Amazing, huh? Guess what though, Your father is going to be the first man to get a thousand home runs. You can count that.”

His son made a whimper but he took it as an agreement. “Such a good lad.”

Achilles checked the bottle to make sure it was mixed properly. He pressed it against his son’s lips, “Hey, it’s your favorite food. Please take it.”

The baby moved his lips then a moment later, latched on to the bottle and began eating. Achilles stared down at his child, at how his little fingers curled and uncurled.

“Oh thank fuck.” Achilles almost cried.

“Didn’t I say not to swear around our son?” Patroclus spoke up from behind Achilles, and he twisted around to face Patroclus. The love of his life stood there, holding two brown bags and watched Achilles with amused eyes.

“Sorry.” Achilles said blankly. “He was hungry.”

Patroclus placed the bags on the table and walked over to Achilles and their son. Patroclus kissed him lightly, mindful of their eating son.

“You did good, love.” Patroclus said with a tired smile.

Achilles grinned, “Only because our son is amazing, just like you.”

Patroclus laughed, cupping Achilles’ cheek. “Smooth talker.”

Achilles watched Patroclus put away the food as their son kept eating. And quietly marveled at how lucky he was to have two great loves, his husband and their precious little son.

(Y/N’s POV, post college, mid twenties )

You have no idea why Hypnos thought going to dinner parties were a good idea. You had tried to talk him into staying at home, but he had pouted at you.

“This is important to Charon.” Hypnos said then leaned into you, placing a hand on your chest and looking up at you with puppy eyes. “And to me.”

So you immediately gave in.

You took a slip of wine, watching Hermes talk and woo Charon’s clients for him. Your eyes caught the ring on his finger, a man's wedding band with diamonds embedded into it.

You thought about the ring you had carefully hidden away at the townhouse you shared with Hypnos, a simple gold band with engraved poppies.

You had to get it special ordered, it had taken months to get Hypnos’ rings size without him knowing. Then you were picky about where to get the ring made, it had to be perfect.

And it was. The place you picked even added careful details of the petals on every single flower and sometimes when alone, you took it out to stare at it. You prayed that Hypnos would like it.

Soon, you told yourself. In a few weeks, you and Hypnos will be going on a vacation away from everyone and you could ask the question.

You already almost asked twice this past month, the first time was in the kitchen and you found Hypnos barely awake and wearing your shirt as he made coffee. And he saw you, he smiled with the morning light hitting him just right and you almost asked right there and then.

The second time had been during a car ride home and Hypnos made some bad joke that made crack himself up and you had almost pulled over to beg him to marry you so you will never go without hearing his laugh ever again.

You finished off the wine, trying to not think about what is going to be the most terrifying moment of your life and went to find your boyfriend. ( And possible fiancé, a voice whispered in your mind)

You found him, close to the kitchen and talking to a man you didn’t recognize. But you knew that look he had, the way his eyes lingered on Hypnos’s lips as he spoke.

Hypnos was always beautiful to you but he grew into his slender limbs over the past years. His curls were still messy, but now it looked more intentional and his smile could break hearts. Hypnos was pretty enough to tempt a saint let alone some guy at a dinner party.

So you made your way over, wearing a fake smile. “Hypnos, babe.” You said and Hypons turned around to you, beaming at you in a way he didn’t at the other man.

You kissed his cheek as you curled a possessive hand around his hip. “I was wondering where you ran off to.”

“For more snacks, of course.” Hypnos nodded to the other man. “James here was telling me about stuff from the baseball museum and history. He is working on a book.”

“Oh?” You looked at James, who gave you the same fake smile.

“Yes I was just telling Hypnos that no one had ever beat Babe Ruth’s record.” James said, giving you a dismissive glance. “I doubt you would know anything about that.”

Something deep inside your mind shifted, not a memory exactly but somehow you knew this asshole was wrong. Before you knew it, you spoke up. “You’re wrong.”

James’ mouth opened, ready to fight but you continued, not really knowing what words you were saying. “ Hank Aaron was the first to break Babe’s record with a total of 755 runs then Berry Bonds broke it with 762.”

James flushed and you realized you might just caught him in a lie because anyone who liked baseball enough to write a book would know that. Because you were a petty son of a bitch, you said. “Achilles, my father, had a record of 799 homerun.”

“Excuse me.” James said with gritted teeth then almost ran off with his tail between his legs.

You and Hypnos watched him turn around the corner then Hypnos looked up at you. “I didn’t know you knew all that.”

You frowned, “I don’t.” You tried to remember where you learned those facts but came up blank. Hypnos laughed, and leaned into your side. “And you know you have nothing to worry about right?”

You kissed him, savoring the taste of him and the sweet wine. Then the kiss broke for a moment. You muttered against his lips, “Only because you don’t know how beautiful you are.”

Hypnos chuckled, “Sweet talker.”

You grinned and took him to the kitchen with him tucked under your arm.

#hades hypnos #hypnos hades #hypnos x male!reader #wake me from this dreaming #fanfic #hypnos x reader

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